Riders on the Storm
by MaverickLover2
Summary: Bret and Bart Maverick are still recovering from previously inflicted injuries when they board the train bound for Tucson. What happens when they encounter murder, mayhem, poker, stage coach travel, highway robbery, monsoon season, and the city itself?
1. Prologue

Riders on the Storm

Prologue

' _Hell'_ is the only word to describe what your life can turn into when your horse has a better trip to Tucson than you do. That's the position my brother and I found ourselves in when we had to ship his stallion and my gelding the day before  we were supposed to leave Yuma. But as usual, I've started in the middle instead of at the beginning of the tale.

My name is Bart Maverick. I'm the younger, and dare I say, better looking, of a pair of brothers. Not just any-old-pair, mind you. We are the best poker playing brothers that Texas has ever loosed on the American West. Oh yeah, the other guy – my brother Bret. Older by one year and five months. And he never lets me forget it.

I don't want you to get the wrong idea. Bret is what the ladies might refer to as 'drop-dead-gorgeous'. That, in my opinion, is a tad excessive. He IS good-looking. And charming. And suave. And he has those dimples. But I definitely have the better sense of humor. If you like that sort of thing. Most of the ladies I meet do.

Anyway, we'd just spent way more time in Yuma, Arizona than we had any intention of spending and, as usual, we were banged up, beat up and all around worn out. And we found ourselves in a conundrum. There was room on today's train for the horses, but not for us. There was room on tomorrow's train for us, but not the horses. So we sent Blackthorn (his stallion) and Noble (my gelding) on the train first, with strict instructions to the livery in Tucson about how the two of them were to be treated. And we spent the last night in the Yuma hotel, which is where we were staying when we started the little adventure we had that involved the corrupt marshal, the crooked mayor, three land-hungry cattle breeders, and a sweet young lady named Molly Hooper.

I should also tell you, Bret's left arm was in a sling, with stitches in his shoulder to close a bullet wound, and I was walking with crutches, having been shot in the right calf (also with stitches). See? Banged up. Which is why the horses were taking the train, rather than us taking the horses.

Back to Bret-the-older. His shoulder was just beginning to feel like he might be able to use it again sometime in this life, which had severely hindered his poker playing ability up until now. I didn't have the same problem, since I don't play poker with my legs. Thank God. But it was time to go and, after some discussion, we'd picked Tucson as our destination. Things started out fine; we had an excellent breakfast, made the train with plenty of time to spare, and were looking forward to a pleasant, restful trip in relative comfort. Which lasted until we got to a town named Why, Arizona and the train decided to go on strike.

Now we had a decision to make. We could wait for two or three days (in a town named Why) or we could take the stage on to Tucson. Something you need to know about both of us – when we decide to leave, we want to go right now. So waiting two, three, or more days in a town not even big enough to have a saloon was completely out of the question. Not that we needed the main part of what a saloon offered – liquor. Neither one of us drinks. But after playing ranch foreman for some months (another story, and one that's already been told), we did need a poker game. At least I needed a poker game. You can see the reason for wanting to leave Why. We opted for the stage coach.

And that's how the horses came to have a better trip to Tucson than Bret and I had. Hindsight is, of course, what you wish you had before you did something rather than after, and if we'd had it we would have sat in our lovely hotel room in Why and waited for the train to be repaired. Then I wouldn't have this charming little tale to tell you of murder, mayhem, poker, stage coach travel, highway robbery, monsoon season, and Tucson.


	2. Settling In

Riders on the Storm

Chapter 1 – Settling In

There were two other passengers as brave, or foolhardy, as we were, on the stage to Tucson. The first was a well-dressed gentleman of perhaps fifty, who gave his name as Burton Paxley III. Burton was from Washington, D.C. and had come to Tucson for the dry air, and to recuperate from a mid-life love affair gone wrong.

The second passenger was - well, she certainly wasn't a well-dressed gentleman. Ailish O'Rourke, otherwise known as Ally, was an adorable Irish spitfire disguised as a proper Irish governess who'd recently quit her job in California and was going to live with her best friend in Tucson. Somewhere between twenty and thirty, with strawberry blonde curls and the most beautiful emerald green eyes I'd ever seen. She'd managed to lose most of her accent but if she was in a particular hurry to speak it might slip through in a word or two. Everything amused and enchanted her and she had a musically-lilting laugh, along with an improperly bawdy sense of humor. Ally thought Bret and I were the funniest two people she'd ever met on the planet.

I, of course, was instantly besotted. Oh, not head-over-heels crazy in love with her, but charmingly amused by her, her eyes, the way she crinkled her nose when she laughed, the words she sometimes mispronounced, and almost every other thing about her. Like I said before, adorable. Bright, witty, warm, and oh-so-easy on the eyes. Besotted.

Bret seemed to enjoy her presence, but not the way I did. Sometimes I just don't understand that brother of mine. Here he had a lovely, utterly engaging fellow passenger to banter with, and he chose to spend his time discussing - what else? – poker with Burton Paxley. That was just fine with me. It meant that I had the delightfully pleasant duty of keeping Miss O'Rourke entertained, and I did just that. She got the full Maverick assault, every family story that I could clean up just enough for a lady, plus a complete and devastatingly accurate portrait of each person in the clan, from Pappy on down to Lily Mae. I even described Noble and Blackthorn's personalities and quirks. Not that Blackthorn has any, but Noble has enough for both of them.

When we stopped at the way-station for supper I had the pleasure of escorting Miss O'Rourke inside to eat; we all sat at a round table and had beef stew, coffee and something that was supposed to pass as apple pie. We were meant to spend the night there but our driver was warned by the station agent that the monsoons were coming early this year and we'd best drive on through, or face the possibility of having the road washed out beneath us. So he decided we would sleep on the road, and I graciously offered to let Miss O'Rourke use me as a pillow. That was a tough decision.

Long ago Bret and I learned to sleep in any position, on anything, at any time of the day or night. That was an absolutely necessary skill that you have to develop if you are any kind of a gambler. It's only been recently that I've acquired the bad habit of not sleeping when I should, but that didn't seem to be bothering me this night. So Miss O'Rourke slept with her head on my chest and I slept (if you could call it that) wedged into my corner of the coach. I have no idea what my brother did.

When I woke up it was raining. Let me correct that – it was absolutely pouring. It was a good thing that the driver had taken the station agent's advice and gone on, because he certainly wasn't making good time right now. The roads were thick with mud and the poor horses were slogging through all the muck rather carefully.

Ally opened those beautiful green eyes and sat up straight. "I'm so sorry," she told me. "I didn't mean to use you as a pillow."

' _I can think of several other things you could use me as,'_ I thought, but out loud I told her, "I offered to let you do that, remember?"

"Your chest was so comfortable," she said to me, and then giggled as she held her fingers to her lips. "I didn't mean . . . oh, drat."

"I don't think he cares what you meant," I heard my brother chime in.

"You're awake," was the extent of my brilliant contribution to the conversation.

"Kinda hard not to be," he answered. "Any idea where we are?"

"Somewhere between Why and Tucson," was my dryly witty comeback.

"I don't think we're going to get too much further," Paxley commented, and the way we were moving I had to agree with him.

"Isn't there another way station close by here?" Ally asked, with just a note of trepidation in her voice.

"Should be," Bret answered. He'd probably been here more than anybody in the coach, except the driver. "Maybe an hour or so away."

"That far?"

Bret pulled open the shade next to him and peered out. "Mmmmmm. Maybe not. We've come further than I thought. Depends on how bad the rest of the road is."

We hadn't ridden another mile when the coach slowed down again. "I think that answers your question," I told my brother. It felt like the horses were walking now, which is probably all they could manage in the downpour we were getting. And not to help matters any, but the wind had begun to blow so hard that at times the coach would rock from side to side.

"This . . . is not good," Ally finally pronounced. "I can't swim." I stifled a laugh.

Time seemed to crawl, and the thought of being in a warm, dry train car had begun to creep into my consciousness. Just when I was about to give up the hope of ever seeing 'land' again, we pulled to a stop in front of what might be the next way station. In just a couple of minutes the coach door was pulled open and a very rain-soaked driver announced, "Okay, folks, this is as far as we go for a while."

Bret jumped out, grabbing for the door with his right hand, followed by Burton. My brother turned back around and helped Ally out of the coach, which wasn't easy for a one-armed man. One of us would have carried her in, but Bret's arm was still in a sling and I was using crutches. I chalked Paxley's reluctance to assist her up to sheer ignorance. Finally I clambered out, almost as helpless as a new-born kitten. There was a roof overhang that covered what served as a porch, and we all tried to hurry inside. To my surprise we were met by a very cheerful older lady with towels for everyone.

"Come on in, folks, and dry off. I'm Esther Perkins. My husband Donny is the station master. Monsoon's a little early this year."

"Does this happen often?" Burton asked petulantly.

"No, not much this time of year. Rains usually wait until later in the month, sometimes until July. This one just seems to have a mind of its own. I've got hot coffee or tea, and I can fix breakfast or lunch, whichever you all want."

"Coffee, Mrs. Perkins. I'm Ailish O'Rourke, I'd be glad to lend a hand if you need help."

Mrs. Perkins patted Ally's arm. "Thank you, dear, that's awfully sweet of you. But I've got it all under control. Gentlemen, coffee?"

"Yes, ma'am," I told her, and Bret echoed my sentiment.

Paxley nodded, then told her, "I'll eat anything you want to fix, Mrs. Perkins. I don't care which meal it is as long as it's food."

We all agreed. It didn't much matter what it was, as long as it was edible. Mrs. Perkins poured coffee and brought us each a cup, then went into another part of the little station, presumably where the kitchen was. Ally followed her back, despite what Mrs. Perkins had told her. The coach driver and (we assumed) Donny Perkins came through the door. Perkins had on a rain slicker but the coach driver was soaked to the skin.

"Well, sorry to say, folks, you ain't goin' nowhere for a while. The back wheel on that stage is about ta come off, and we can't get it changed till the rain lets up. Right now there ain't no sign a that happenin', so ya might as well settle in." That was the coach driver, and while it was unexpected, it didn't surprise me. It felt like there was something going on with the coach but it'd been hard to tell because of the weather and the roads. Now it had been confirmed.

"Sorry, everyone, I'm Donny Perkins and Willie's right. You're lucky ya got this far with the wheel in that shape. Good thing we got food an beds for everybody, you could be here an extra day or two."

I looked at Bret and shook my head. He shrugged his shoulders and drank his coffee. He was right, there wasn't a damn thing we could do about it.


	3. Don Quixote

Chapter 2 – Don Quixote

"Three sevens," I announced, and Bret threw his cards in. That's the way we'd played all afternoon, back and forth, but we were bored to tears and he wanted to start using that left shoulder. It was the first time I'd ever seen my brother fumble with the cards. Paxley paced mostly, and Ally spent a lot of time talking to Mrs. Perkins. Never thought about it before, but it had to be a pretty lonely life for a way station agent and his wife. Ally and Esther Perkins seemed to enjoy each other's company.

"Burton, why don't you come over here and join us?" Bret finally asked Paxley. "Put some of that knowledge you have of the game to the test." The man from Washington seemed to be considering the invitation. I didn't care one way or the other. I was still holding his failure to help Ally from the coach against him. "Pacing won't make the rain stop," Bret added.

"Alright," Paxley agreed, and I grinned. Bret saw the look and shook his head. Just like big brother to stop me from extracting revenge and enjoying myself. I sighed and nodded, acknowledging that I would be a good boy and play nice. Two hours later we were still playing, but in a way, I had my revenge. Burton Paxley was a good poker player; a very good poker player. On this day, with the wind and the rain beating against every square inch of the little way station, the elusive Lady we all worshipped stood right behind me and threw everything my way. I was playing so well that Bret gave me that 'what are you doing?' look more than once. Each time I merely shrugged my shoulders and kept at it. Straight, flush, full house, four of a kind, even a mere two pair, every time I needed them.

When Burton excused himself to get more coffee, Bret glared across the table. "What are you doin'?"

"Playin' poker," I replied. "No tricks, just poker."

"Anybody want more?" Paxley asked from across the room.

"I could use some," I told him.

"Will it slow you down any?" he asked kiddingly. At least I think it was kiddingly.

"Probably," I answered. "It's worth a try."

Mrs. Perkins appeared, as if from nowhere. "Supper will be ready shortly," she announced. "Anybody need anything before then?"

We all shook our heads just as Willie and Mr. Perkins came back inside. "Rain's slowin' down some," Willie announced. "Maybe it'll keep goin' that way. We could use some good luck about now."

Bret spoke up. "My brother seems to have it in excess right now. Maybe he could give ya some of it."

Willie laughed, the first time he'd done so. "I'm willin' to take it any which way I can get it."

"Do you really think it's lettin' up?" I asked Willie. "Or are you just tryin' to make us all feel better?"

Donny Perkins answered that one. "No, sir, it really seems to be slowin' down some. If it keeps this up we might be able to work on that wheel tonight."

"Good. I might be able to keep some of my money if we can get back on the road," Paxley remarked as he returned to our table.

"That's not in my plan," I answered back, and grinned. I know just how fickle the Lady can be, and I intended to take full advantage of her while she was smilin' at me. We played another two or three hands and nothing changed, so Burton was a happy man when Mrs. Perkins came back out with empty plates and utensils for supper.

"Got fried chicken and mashed potatoes, plus fresh-baked biscuits courtesy of Miss O'Rourke. And more coffee. Can you gentlemen yield your poker table for food?"

"Yes, ma'am, we do so willingly," Bret told her, and I gathered up the cards and my newly won money. In just a few minutes everyone was seated and eating. I don't know what the rest of life with Mrs. Perkins was like, but I assumed that Mr. Perkins stomach was very, very content.

I didn't need to, but I felt compelled to help the ladies clear the supper dishes. My misplaced sense of chivalry, perhaps? Not that I could do all that much, but I'd had experience maneuvering with one crutch, which left a hand free to carry plates. By the time we were finished Donny and Willie had gone back outside. I opened the door to see what the monsoon was doing and was met by darkness and drizzling rain. Even in the blackness of the storm I could still hear rushing water, and pondered just how much rain the monsoon had dumped on the way station.

"Interested in more poker?" Bret asked, and I closed the door before answering him.

"No, thanks. I can handle some sleep in a real bed," I replied, and Ally smiled.

"Can you spare me a few minutes first?" Miss O'Rourke asked, and I nodded. Mrs. Perkins had assigned beds to each of us earlier, and I hobbled towards mine and sat down. Ally sat on the bed opposite mine, the one designated as my brother's.

"How did you end up on crutches?" she asked me, and I wondered if that's what she wanted to speak to me about.

"I caught a bullet."

"Defending a ladies honor?"

I chuckled slightly. "No, her property."

"Quite galante, aren't you?"

"Me?" I had visions of Don Quixote, and laughed at the notion. "No, I've never been accused of that before. Why would you ask that?"

"I saw the look you gave Burton Paxley when we got off the stage. And the way you played poker against him. You looked like a knight trying to right a grievous wrong."

"You've read too many romantic novels, Ailish. I'm just a simple, good ole' Texas boy tryin' to stay alive."

She smiled and cast her eyes downward. "I don't believe that. I know a good man when I see one. And that's exactly what my friend Nora needs right now."

Okay, I'm a sucker when somebody tells me a lady needs help. "The girl you're goin' to live with?"

"Aye. She has a brother, Eamon, and he . . . " and for the next fifteen minutes she proceeded to pour out her heart to me about Nora and Eamon and their troubles.

When she'd finally finished I reached over and took one of her hands in mine. "I don't mean to be callous, but what do you need me for?"

She looked startled, and those emerald green eyes lit up with fire. "Why, for your courage, and bravery, and good, common sense. And your sense of justice."

"And my poker playin'?"

"Well . . . that may have a wee bit to do with it. That's why I'm comin' to Tucson, to try and help in any way I can. That and I grew up with Nora and she's like me sister. I can't let her give up everything she's worked her whole life for, just to save Eamon. I may not be certain that he deserves a second chance, but Nora is. So that's that. Will you help us?"

I hesitated, and it had nothing to do with Ally. "Not sure how much help I can be. A one-legged gambler?"

"You won't be on those crutches forever. And I can pay. I've got over five-hundred dollars saved, and there's a reward for Turner and Big Ed. And we might need your brother, too. It just depends."

"On what?" I made the crucial mistake of asking.

"Nora. She desperately needs a distraction."

"Not to sound crass, but does Nora look like you?" I, of course, meant that in the most complimentary way.

"Oh, no," Ally laughed. "She's got long dark hair and huckleberry blue eyes, and she's taller than me by a good deal. She's a real beauty, she is," she told me in all sincerity. "I could never compare to Nora."

I refrained from laughing. Didn't Ally have any idea how beautiful she was? I was sunk, and I knew it. "Alright, on one condition."

"What is that, Mr. Maverick?"

"That you can convince my brother it's a good idea."

The most exquisite smile spread across her face. "That would be a great pleasure."

I thought about the last time a beautiful woman had talked Bret into something. He had a hole in his shoulder to show for it. "You have my blessings and best wishes in your quest, Miss O'Rourke." I stood back up and offered her my hand, which she took and rose without any more prompting. "Now, I really do need some sleep. Good night, Ally."


	4. Another Country Heard From

Chapter 3 – Another Country Heard From

Now I know that my Brother Bart was tellin' this story, but I have to interject my point of view here somewhere. Bart tends to forget that I was part of this whole story, too, and no one ever gets to hear my side of the goin's on. So here I am to explain a few things.

When we decided it was time to leave Yuma, Arizona, it was a mutual decision. We both had bullet holes from our encounters with the Yuma Cattle Buyers Consortium, although I will admit that his was fresher than mine. And he did have a worse time of it, because I could do a whole lot of things without the use of my left shoulder. Little brother was pretty limited because he couldn't even walk without crutches. And from his experience with those and a cane in the past, not being able to get around quickly was pretty restrictin' for him.

But, like I said, we both decided to get out of there quickly for at least two reasons. First of all, there was the potential romance between Molly Hooper, ranch owner, and Delgado Hernandez, newly appointed sheriff. When I say potential I don't mean 'maybe' potential, I mean just gettin' started potential. Molly didn't need two wounded warriors gettin' in the way of that, and neither did Delgado. Second of all, the whole time we were in Yuma we were known as 'Hancock' and 'Delacroix,' rather than Bart and Bret Maverick. We made friends. We helped people in need. We were some of the so-called 'good guys' while we were there. I know, that was all my fault. But how would it have affected the Maverick reputation if word got out about all the things we'd done in the name of justice and fair play? And why would we want the people we'd helped to find out that their champions were con men and gamblers? So I wanted to make sure we left town with Hancock and Delacroix's reputations intact.

When we were presented with the problem of transportin' us and our horses, we decided on the only possible choice available – send the horses first and follow on the next day's train. I'm glad it was our train that broke down rather than the one takin' Blackthorn and Noble; the horses wouldn't have had the option to wait two or three days or take the stage. It's easy now to say we should have waited for the train to be repaired, but at the time we thought we were makin' the right decision. How were we supposed to know that monsoon season was startin' early that summer?

As for my lack of attention to Ailish O'Rourke – that's a riddle easily solved. Brother Bart lit up like a Christmas tree when he saw her. I'd seen his attraction to Molly in Yuma, and he'd backed off as soon as he figured out I was interested, too. I owed him one, and when I saw how Ally O'Rourke wrapped him around her little finger with just a smile and a laugh, I decided that discretion was the better part of valor (yes, thank you, I have read Shakespeare, not that my brother would know that) and I turned my attention elsewhere. Burton Paxley was a pretty poor substitute for the lovely and educated Miss O'Rourke, but he was someone to talk to on the long coach ride. Why he chose not to help Ally from the coach at the second way station I have no idea; ignorance, stupidity, forgetfulness, or just a justifiable dislike of pourin' rain I don't know, but I decided to overlook the indiscretion.

When Burton sat down to play poker with us I saw the gleam in Bart's eyes, and I knew what was goin' through his mind. Which is why I gave him 'the look,' somethin' I borrowed from Pappy, and a particular weapon I have attempted to perfect over the years. It was effective enough that Bart promised to act like an adult, an agreement I'd begun to doubt when he won game after game. Only problem was, I couldn't see him doin' any cheatin', so I questioned his sincerity the first chance I got. He assured me he was merely playin' poker, and I have to admit I've seen him go on a hot streak like that more than a few times. Supper interrupted the game before he got too much further into Burton's wallet, and Bart begged off after we ate and headed for bed. Miss O'Rourke decided she needed to monopolize some of his time and spent a good half-hour talkin' to him in the room that was to be 'our' bedroom for the night.

Which is how we got to this point in the tale. When Ally came out of the sleepin' area (for the sake of propriety the door to that room had remained open) I was to share with Brother Bart, she had the most serene and placid smile on her face, and I figured I was in for a whole passel of trouble. Turns out I was right.


	5. A Change of Heart

Chapter 4 – A Change of Heart

I don't know what Ally O'Rourke said to Brother Bret, or how she said it; I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer and was asleep almost as soon as I lay down. Donny Perkins and Willie got the wheel fixed on the coach before the rain started pounding down again, and according to what Bret told me it continued to rain that way all night.

The weather the next morning was a repeat of the weather the morning before, with thunder as loud as I'd ever heard it and lightning flashes that kept coming. All hope of leaving the way station evaporated, and we settled in for another day of boredom and poker.

By lunchtime the rain had started to slow down again, and I found myself standing on the porch leaning on a crutch and watching the river of water pour past the house. I'd just attempted to light a cigar and was blowing out smoke when I realized that Bret was standing next to me, lighting a cigar of his own. "Ally O'Rourke talked to me," Bret relayed as he took a draw on the stogie. "Smart move, you havin' her ask me for help."

I waited for the rest of the lecture but Bret said nothing more. I held out as long as I could before I finally asked, "How's your shoulder this mornin'?"

"A little stiff from yesterday. Gotta get it in workin' order, I guess." And just like that, it seemed to be settled that Bret and I were in for straightening out somebody else's mess. Again. I let out a slow sigh, more than tickled not to listen to another diatribe from Pappy. Funny how I keep thinkin' I'm traveling with my brother and my father keeps turning up in his stead.

We both finished our smokes and were still standing there when Willie pulled the stage coach back around front. "You wanna give it a try?" he called down to us, and Bret and I both nodded.

"We're willin' if you are," Bret answered, and I followed him back inside to tell the others. Burton Paxley was as happy about the news as we were. I think I just about 'pokered' Mr. Paxley out.

Ally asked me quietly, "Did your brother say anything to you?" and I tried not to grin. "Well?"

"We're in," I answered, and that beatific smile she had lit up the room again.

"Do you need any help?" she asked, then clarified. "Packing, I mean."

"Nope. Here's the secret to packing – don't unpack." At least I got a laugh out of her.

It took less than ten minutes for everyone to be ready to leave. I've been in a lot of way stations but I'm not sure I've ever been treated quite as hospitably as we were treated by Mr. and Mrs. Perkins. Willie loaded luggage on the stage and I climbed inside first, followed by Ally (assisted by both my brother and me), Bret and Paxley. And just like that, we were off again.

Mrs. Perkins had hurriedly assembled a basket of leftovers to send with us since it was unlikely that we would stop again until the next town, a little place called Sutterville. If we didn't run into any more monsoon rain we might make it by tomorrow morning. Oh joy, another night of sleeping in the coach. At least that meant another night of Ally sleeping next to me.

And that's the way it went, with me wedged in the corner and Ally lying against me. The rain started again during the night, but this wasn't a downpour, just a soft, steady rain. Every time I was awake Willie seemed to have the horses going at a nice, comfortable pace, and we did none of the slipping and sliding around we'd done before. Once I woke up and realized that my arms were around the girl next to me, and she was snuggled about as close as she could get. Good thing neither one of us was terribly shy.

By morning both my neck and back were stiff, but we were that much closer to Tucson. I still had one arm around Miss O'Rourke, and her hat had come off during the night; I had a head full of golden-red curls almost under my nose. When her eyes fluttered open those beautiful green orbs were staring up at me, and I leaned down to kiss her. Then Bret cleared his throat and I pulled back.

"Thanks," I said.

"You're welcome," he smirked back at me. "We shouldn't be far from Sutterville."

"I really needed to know that," I told him.

"I thought you did."

"Morning," Ally murmured, those eyes still looking at me. I wonder if she knew how close I'd come to kissing her?

XXXXXXXX

Bret was right, we were in Sutterville in less than an hour. Willie pulled up at the stage coach office – right next door was a café. And the Lord be praised, the rain had stopped. There was mud and water everywhere, but there was none falling from the sky at this exact moment. Everybody scrambled out as best we could, and piled into the café. Quickly there was coffee all around and food on the way. Ah, the comfort of a hot breakfast.

A short while later we were back in the coach and on the way to Tucson. "We'll be there today," Bret announced, before I added, "God willing and the creek don't rise."

"Please, no," Ally pronounced. "We've had enough water."

"Oh, Miss O'Rourke, we're just gettin' started. This is monsoon season, there's bound to be a whole lotta rain still to come," I explained, and for the first time in several days, Ally looked dismayed.

"More? Really? Nora never told me about all that rain. Is it like this all the time?"

I spent the next piece of time explaining monsoons to the Irish lass, and her eyes grew wider with every new fact. By the time I finished she looked positively startled. "And it only does this during a particular time of year?"

"Yes, ma'am, most of the year it's dry and dusty. A little different than Ireland?"

"A lot different than Ireland. You have the strangest weather in this country."

I thought about that for a minute; she was probably right. "We're just so darned big. Too spread out for it to be all the same everywhere."

Ally got quiet and thoughtful. Maybe she was thinking about her native land; maybe not. Me, I was thinking about a nice, big bed. I did something that I very rarely do – I went back to sleep. Why not? My belly was full, the day was warm and sticky, and there was nothin' much else to do. When I woke up the coach was slowing down; we were just coming into Tucson.

The town had changed since I was here last – that had been a while ago, with Bret and Doc Holliday and Amy Stanhope. It's where I found out that I really wasn't John Holliday, but rather Bart Maverick. Where I was almost killed by a cowboy that wouldn't take no for an answer. A lot of things happened here, both pleasant and unpleasant. Tucson had grown considerably since then. The old Silver Dollar Hotel was gone, replaced by the much more elegant Tucson Palace Hotel. Jake's Saloon had become the Lucky Lady Saloon & Casino and been considerably upgraded from the ramshackle place that it was before. There were more people, more horses, wagons and traffic on the streets. More buildings, more businesses, even more dogs. And there was definitely something else that wasn't here before.

We pulled up in front of the stage depot and there was a woman waiting on the sidewalk. Tall and dark-haired, with sapphire blue eyes and an elegant stance. Having heard Ally's description it had to be Nora. From the happy laugh of my fellow passenger, I knew I was correct. Then I heard something from my brother I hadn't heard in a long time – the sound of him sucking in his breath, as if startled and enthralled at the same time. I looked across the coach at him – and there was a look in his eyes I hadn't seen since . . . well, since Althea Taylor. Something seemed to fly right on out of the stage as the coach settled – and it was my brother's reluctance to be involved in Nora Garrity's complicated life and problems.


	6. Old Friends

Chapter 5 – Old Friends

One thing I will say for my brother – wounded shoulder or not, when he wants to move fast, he certainly can. He was out of that stagecoach quicker than I could say "poker," immediately scrambling to help Ally out and onto the sidewalk. Burton Paxley was next, and by the time I managed to struggle out by myself, crutches and all, Ally had already begun the introductions. I know because I heard her say, "and his brother Bart Maverick. I've asked them to help with the Eamon situation."

Nora Garrity looked aghast, to say the least. "You've brought us wounded men?"

"Healing men," Bret corrected her, as he tipped his hat to the lovely Miss Garrity. "Rapidly healing men."

"Nora!" Ally admonished. "Two fine gentlemen that can help us find a way out of the mess that your wee brother has created. Both are expert poker players and very, very wise in the ways of this strange land. And you'll not be insulting them like that."

"I didn't mean to be insultin' ya," Nora pleaded. "It's just . . . "

"That we're not what you expected," Bret finished for her.

"Aye," the girl answered. "I was expectin' . . . ruffians. Instead she brings me elegantly garbed gentlemen. I apologize if I caused any offense."

"None taken," I told her. "You are exactly as Ally described. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Garrity."

Bret had recovered enough from the shock of seeing Nora Garrity in the flesh to reassert his poker face. "Willie, can we have Miss O'Rourke's bags, please, as well as ours?"

Willie looked down from the driver's seat and grinned. "Looks like you two hit the jackpot," he declared as he threw the bags down, one at a time, to the both of us. Once we had everything Willie tipped his hat to the ladies. "You all take care now," he told us and left for the livery and fresh horses.

"Strange little man," Nora pronounced.

"Extremely skilled stage driver," I assured her.

"Well, we've a lot to catch up on. Bret, Bart, would you be able to join us for dinner this evening at Nora's – I mean our – house?"

"No, no, no, Ailish, no one should have to cook the first night they're in their new home. Please allow us to take the both of you to dinner this evening. Is the Tucson Steak House still open?" Bret was wasting no time.

"Aye, it is," Nora responded. "But that's not necessary."

"Necessity has nothing to do with it," I responded. "It would be our pleasure to escort you two ladies to dinner tonight. Around six, shall we say? And your address, Miss Garrity?"

"Nora, please. The house is two streets back of the newspaper office. It's the third house on Willow Street. You can't miss it – it has a big white swing on the porch. And I can explain what's happened with Eamon and everything since I last wrote to Ally."

"You have a buggy, Nora? Let us get Ally's bags." I picked up one and my own, leaving Bret to get the other one.

"Right over there, Mr. – uh, Bart was it? Would that stand for Bartley, by any chance?"

I winced and Bret grinned. He knows exactly how I feel about 'Bartley.' "Yes, ma'am, it does. But I prefer Bart if you don't mind."

"Ah, that's a shame," Nora stated. "Bartley is such a fine Irish name." We deposited Ally's bags in the buggy and assisted the ladies into same. "Thank you, gentlemen. We shall see you at precisely six o'clock." Nora shook the reins gently and the horse cantered off. Ally turned around and waved to us. I waved back.

I turned back around to my brother and he looked rather stunned. "Bret." No answer. "Bret." Still no answer. "BRET."

"Hmmm? What?"

"Is there a general store close?"

"What for?"

"I need a cane to replace these crutches."

I think what I was asking him finally sank in. "Down the street, right before the livery. We have to go down there anyway and arrange for a buggy."

"And make sure the boys got here alright."

"The boys?"

He must have been even more impressed with Nora Garrity than I realized, because his mind was thousands of miles away. "Blackthorn and Noble? Our horses?"

"Oh. Oh sure. The boys. Let's get a hotel room first, then we can get rid of the bags. Tucson Palace alright with you?"

"Fine," I told him. Sometimes I can be slow on the uptake. It had taken me a while to realize that there was something bothering Bret besides his appreciation of Nora Garrity. No woman had ever elicited a response like the one he'd just given. He'd noticed something, or seen something, or thought of something, and that's why he was so distracted. All I knew for sure was that whatever it was, he wasn't about to share it with me while we stood out on the sidewalk in Tucson. So I picked up my bag and started hobbling as best I could back up the sidewalk towards the Palace. Bret grabbed his bag, still deep in thought, and followed.

XXXXXXXX

Typically we share a hotel room, both for company and frugality. This time we splurged just a bit and got what could be described as a suite, which is nothing more than a central sitting room with a bedroom on either side. It wasn't that much more expensive than a single room, and since we were both still suffering from the after-effects of bullet wounds, we didn't need to try and share a bed. I could just imagine us running into each other as we awkwardly endeavored to maneuver injured bodies around.

Contrary to what I'd told Ally about not unpacking, I did just that. When everything was hung up or put away, I went into the sitting room to see if Bret was finished yet. He was there waiting for me. "Wanna tell me what had you so distracted?" I asked.

"Nora Garrity," he answered, and I knew as soon as the words came out of his mouth that he'd only told me a partial truth.

"Besides the tall, gorgeous brunette."

"Nothing."

My brother didn't lie to me. On occasion he would give me only a partial answer, or not answer me at all, but he didn't tell me out-and-out lies. So there was something going on besides normal boy-meets-girl and is instantly smitten. I also know when he's not going to give me any more of an answer than he's already given me. This appeared to be one of those times.

"Let's go to the livery," I proposed.

"Good idea."

We went down the street to the livery first and found that our instructions regarding the horses had been followed. Blackthorn and Noble seemed pleased to see us, especially the gelding, who definitely has a mind of his own. This time I'd managed to secure an apple from the dining room before coming to see the old man, and he obligingly forgave me all my past transgressions. Whatever they might have been. The way to that horse's heart is decidedly through his stomach, and I made him euphoric today. He seemed to know that I wasn't completely myself because there was none of the normal 'pushing me around' that he does when I haven't seen him for a while. Bret made arrangements for the buggy and we started back up towards the general store.

I was determined to get rid of the crutches and switch to a cane, which I'd used on several previous occasions. While I was looking around for anything else that might prove useful I saw Bret staring out the store window at someone, so I walked over to see just who or what had attracted his attention. When I got within a few feet of him he put out his arm in a "stop now" sign and I did just that.

"What's that for?" I asked him.

"They've already seen me. I don't want 'em to see you with me."

"Who?" I was beginning to get exasperated.

"Nate Turner and Big Ed Dumbrowski."

"Who?"

"The two lowlifes giving Nora's brother such a hard time. I know 'em." That was not like Bret. Being what might be considered lowlifes ourselves, we tended to stay away from people like that. Unless they happened to be friends. Didn't sound like these two were.

"From where?" I questioned.

"Dodge City."

I gave an involuntary shudder. Dodge City was the place where Bret had been shot and killed in a gunfight forced on him by Rob Hinkel. At least, everyone thought he was dead, including me. That was supposed to have ended when I killed Hinkel in self-defense. I didn't remember the names Turner or Dumbrowski. Where had they come from?

"I don't know either one of 'em. That don't make sense."

"Hinkel sent 'em off to Texas to take care of somethin' for him right before . . . well, right before the fight. I guess they didn't come back."

"You must be right. They weren't around when I was there."

"Then at least they don't know you by sight. Let's keep it that way." He turned away from the window and back to me. "Did you find a cane?"

"Yep." I raised what was in my hand. "Got just the thing. Let's get back to the hotel. I need a bath."

"That makes two of us, Brother Bart. Let's see what we can do about that."

I had traded the crutch for the cane, so I gave it a real test on the way back to the hotel. Bret reasoned that since Turner and Big Ed had been gone by the time I got to Dodge, they wouldn't know I was his brother. Now that Rob Hinkel and Orin Johnson were both dead, who were those two working for?


	7. Sisters

Chapter 6 – Sisters

Being clean was certainly preferable to being dusty, dirty and sweaty, and I had an easier time getting in and out of the bath than I did the stagecoach. I shaved and put on clean clothes, and I'm sure that Brother Bret was doing the same. Using the cane to walk was a whole lot easier than using crutches, or crutch, and I was ready in no time. I was waiting for Bret when he emerged from his room, and I whistled. "You clean up good, farm boy."

"I resent that. We grew up on a ranch, not a farm."

He had a point. "Alright, you clean up good, ranch boy."

"Ready?"

"For supper with two beautiful Irish lasses? You betcha'."

He picked up his hat, plopped it on his head, and held the door open for me to hobble through. We were halfway down the stairs when I finally asked, "You wanna tell me what you were really thinkin' about when we got here and you first saw Nora Garrity?"

"You mean besides how absolutely stunnin' she is to look at?"

"Yeah."

He stopped walking for just a moment and looked right at me. "That I'd seen her someplace before."

"Any idea where?"

"Nope."

"Still feel that way?"

"To tell you the truth, I'm not really sure. Maybe it was just wishful thinkin'."

Uh-uh. I know my brother. He's got a memory like an elephant. If he thought he'd seen her before, odds were that he had. Now all I had to do was wait for him to remember where.

Bret went down and picked up the buggy, then got me on the way back. The newspaper office was easy enough to find, and Nora and Ally's house on Willow Street was even easier. We were there, to quote Nora, at 'precisely six o'clock'.

They were both lovely. Ally was dressed in a dark, rich purple that made her eyes sparkle even more than the first time I saw them, and Nora wore the deepest rose color imaginable. When she opened the front door I heard Bret suck his breath in again. "Ladies, we are here to escort you to dinner. You are both true visions of loveliness."

Ally giggled and Nora looked at my cane. "Traded the crutches in, I see." Then her eyes went to Bret, and the fact he'd foregone his sling. And she smiled.

"A little less wounded," big brother remarked, and offered his arm to Nora, while I did the same for Ailish. The buggy ride to the steakhouse was quick and comfortable; it was nice to hold a girl's hand in mine again, and I did just that with Ally. We were seated at a private table and ordered a sweet, light red wine that even Bret enjoyed the taste of. I was delighted to find that Ally ate her steak the same way I did; he wouldn't dare harass me about my steak being burned with hers the same way. We chatted about Tucson and how Ally liked everything so far, and waited until after-dinner coffee was served before Nora began explaining what her brother was in and how he'd gotten there.

"When we moved to Tucson from New York, Eamon didn't know what kind of business to get into," she explained. "He'd worked for a newspaper at home but there was nothing available here in the city, so he was a bit aimless for a while. He tried working as a clerk at the store but didn't care for the job; then he tried his hand at the front desk of the very hotel where you're staying. That was better but he kept hoping for a job to open up with the paper. Then he switched to working for the bank.

"What I didn't know was that he'd taken up gambling. Playing poker for two such experienced men as yourselves may not be gambling, but for Eamon it was. He was always responsible in New York, and I had no reason to believe that he wouldn't be the same here."

"I take it that he wasn't?" Bret asked.

"That would be a good assumption," Nora responded. "He got in deeper and deeper without my knowin' it, until he owed over six-thousand dollars. Then those two . . . creatures came along and told him they'd paid his debt in full . . . and now he owed them. They want him to do something for them, but he hasn't told me what."

"Does he know what it is they want, Nora?" I asked her.

"I . . . I think so. He won't tell me. I think it's something . . . awful."

"Is he still workin' at the bank?"

"Yes."

Nora said nothing else, and Ally took her friend's hand in her own. "Tell them the rest, deirfiúr."

"Must I?"

"Aye. Everything."

Nora turned back towards us and a blush came to her cheeks. "Eamon and I had an account at the bank."

"Had?" I asked.

"Aye. He lost most of that, too."

"How much?"

"Almost four thousand dollars, I'm mortified to say."

Bret asked her the next question, just to make sure we understood. "So he lost four thousand dollars of your money, then he lost another six thousand that he owes Turner and Big Ed?"

She nodded, and a tear ran down her face. "Yes," she whispered.

Ally looked at me plaintively, as if to say, "See?"

"Where does he live?" I asked Nora.

Before she could answer, Ally spoke up. "He's in a rooming house over behind the bank."

"Is he still gambling?"

"No. He has no money, and the saloon won't give him any more credit," Nora managed to get out. "I'm so ashamed."

Bret went into protective big brother mode, God bless him. He took one of her hands in his as he told her, "There's no reason for you to be ashamed. You did nothin' wrong. I've run across Turner and Ed before; they're worthless. We'll go see Eamon and talk to him. Then we may have to see Turner and Ed."

"What good will that do?" Nora wondered.

"Let us worry about that," I added. "You two just focus on gettin' Ally settled. Are you gonna look for a job?"

"I've already got one, as a teacher's assistant. I start next week."

"You're free until then?" I asked brightly.

"I am," she answered.

"Then you have to let me show you around Tucson," I offered. "After we see Eamon, of course."

"I'd like that a lot," the Irish lass answered.

"Does Eamon work at the bank every day?"

"Most every day. Will you see him tomorrow?"

"If we can. If not, then tomorrow night." I thought that we should talk to the boy? man? as soon as possible. From the look on Bret's face he agreed.

"Ladies, it's been a most pleasant evenin', but my brother and I have some business we must attend to. Are we all ready to go?" As everyone around the table nodded, Bret stood and held Nora's chair for her, while I did the same for Ally. It had been a pleasant evening, and I, for one, hated to see it end. I doubted that my brother had poker in mind, so I assumed we were going looking for Eamon.

As we walked out I asked Ally, "Can I take you to lunch tomorrow? And then a little sightseeing, perhaps?"

I was graced with another of her radiant smiles. "I'd be most pleased if that would happen," she whispered. "At noon perhaps?"

"At noon exactly," I told her, and helped her into the buggy. She leaned into me, much as she had on the stage, as we drove back to her new home. I wanted so badly to kiss her, but somehow had the feeling this was neither the time or the place. I walked Ally to the door as Bret followed behind with Nora, and kissed her lightly on the cheek, then tipped my hat to her. "Thank you for a lovely night," and I held the door as she went inside. Nora and Bret exchanged some kind of banter and the lovely dark-haired lass followed her new roommate into the house. I leaned heavily on the cane as we walked back to the buggy; it had been a long day for my first day off the crutches, and I had the feeling it was about to get longer.

"Are we Eamon hunting?" I asked my brother.

"That we are," Brother Bret replied. "Pick a saloon, any saloon."

Deirfiúr - Sister


	8. Bad Debts and Blackmail

Chapter 7 – Bad Debts and Blackmail

A lot of things had changed in Tucson, but one thing hadn't – there were still more saloons here than legitimate businesses. And that night, I swear, we hit every one of them looking for Eamon Garrity. Bret had a photo that Nora lent him, so at least we had an idea what he looked like. And now he wore a mustache that Nora said he'd grown when they came to Arizona. Dark-headed like his sister, he was around twenty-five years old. Not as tall as me, with curly hair and a scar across the back of his left hand that he'd gotten playing a game called lacrosse in school back in New York.

We tried the Lucky Lady first, but he wasn't there, playing poker or anything else. Then we hit Monroe's Saloon, Fancy's, Long John's, Minnie's Silver Dollar, Tucson Bar, and Irish Mike's. I was more than willing to give up when we walked into Mike's, but it was here that we finally hit pay dirt. Sitting at a table all the way in the back, as if hiding from something or someone, was the man himself, Eamon Garrity. A little thinner and a little older looking than in the picture, he was seated facing the front door, no doubt to give him time to escape out the back should Turner or Big Ed appear. Or, God forbid, his sister. Since he wasn't looking for us, we had no problem approaching him from both sides and literally lifted him out of his chair.

"What? Who? Put me down!" he squealed, rather like a piglet that's been cornered. Bret leaned over and whispered something in his ear – all I could hear was the word 'Nora' – and all the fight went out of him. He stood and gathered his money, then walked begrudgingly with my brother. Bret kept the grip he had on Eamon's right arm, and I limped after them. Once we got him outside I heard Bret tell him "Your place," and we walked the two blocks to the bank before turning down an alley behind the building. The boarding house looked better than I'd imagined, and Eamon led us up the stairs to a room all the way in the back. He unlocked the door and we followed him in, and I closed and locked it behind me. He sat on the bed; there was only one chair in the room and Bret left it for me.

"Alright, who really sent you - Turner? Big Ed? Morgan? Because I'm sure it wasn't Nora."

Bret said nothing, just stood and looked around the room, then at Eamon. The place was as neat as a pin and I was surprised. I'm not sure what I expected but it wasn't this. If it was Bret's intention to make Eamon uneasy it was working; I knew why we were there and I wasn't comfortable with my brother's silence. Finally he spoke, and it was only one word. "Why?"

The man on the bed seemed startled by the question, then he regained his composure. "Are you asking me why I gambled?"

His question was met with dead silence. I didn't know how Bret intended to handle this, so I just sat there and kept my mouth shut. Eamon fidgeted, kind of like Cousin Beau does when he gets nervous or worried, and when he couldn't take the stillness any longer he stood up defiantly, with his hands on his hips. "Alright, look, just go ahead and beat me or kill me or do whatever it is you're going to do, and get it over with."

Bret took two steps and pushed him back down on the bed. "We're not here to hurt you, Garrity. We're here to help."

"Who sent you?"

Bret glanced at me and I answered the question. "Ally O'Rourke. And your sister Nora."

He brightened for just a moment. "Ailish is here?" Then he realized what that probably meant, and his face darkened again. "She knows everything, doesn't she?"

"No," I told him, "she doesn't know you're still gambling. And neither does Nora; she thinks you've quit. Where'd you get the money?"

He shook his head and stared at the floor, then let out a long breath. "I borrowed it. From a friend."

"Like you borrowed Nora's money?" Bret asked him.

"Part of that was mine."

"And part of it wasn't. What do Turner and Big Ed want from you?"

"Do you know Turner and Big Ed?" Eamon asked.

"I do," Bret answered. "And I know they probably work for someone. Who's Morgan?"

"Who are you?" Garrity had finally decided he wasn't gonna give us any more answers until he got some of his own.

"Friends of Nora's and Ally's. Who's Morgan?" Bret repeated.

Eamon's shoulders sagged, and he exhaled as if resigned to answering our questions. "Morgan is the man they work for. Morgan Everton. The man that wants me to commit murder."

Bret and I looked at each other. Somehow that didn't surprise either one of us. "He's not related to Orin Johnson, is he?" I asked, almost expecting an affirmative answer. Eamon said nothing, so Bret asked the next question.

"Who does he want you to kill?"

Garrity shook his head. "I don't know. They haven't told me yet."

"What else have they told you? The whole story, Eamon, not just pieces." Sounded like Bret was tired of asking questions.

Resistant to the very end, Garrity asked once more, "Who are you?"

Bret sighed and then looked at me and nodded. "My name's Bart Maverick. I'm a professional poker player. This is my brother Bret. He's a poker player, too. We're friends with Ally O'Rourke and your sister. We know all about the money you took from Nora, and the six thousand dollar debt that Turner and Big Ed now control. Ally's asked us to see what we can do to help."

"And you know Turner and Dumbrowski?"

My turn to shake my head. "I don't. My brother does."

The boy (I'd mentally downgraded him from man to boy) turned to Bret. "How do you know them?"

Bret had already come to the conclusion that the quicker we answered all of Eamon's questions, the quicker we'd get the answers we wanted. "They worked for a man named Orin Johnson in Dodge City. He tried to have me killed."

"Where's this Orin Johnson now? How do you know he isn't Morgan Everton?"

My turn again. "Orin Johnson's dead."

"How do you know that?"

I'd had enough of this back and forth questioning. I was tired, my leg hurt, and I was beginning to wish that I'd never agreed to help Ally with Nora's problem. "Because he died in front of me, Eamon."

"Did you kill him?"

' _No, but I might kill you,'_ ran through my mind. "No."

"Then how – "

"Enough," Bret said very quietly. "If you don't want our help, we'll leave. You can choose to kill or not kill for Morgan Everton. And break your sister's heart, while you're at it. Well?"

The boy quit stalling, finally. "It was small, at first. I won, I lost, I won again. Nothing I tried for a job was working, and the only enjoyment I had was gambling. You know how hard it is to start over in a place you don't know, when you've spent your whole life somewhere – civilized, in comparison? I couldn't meet women, except saloon girls. I was living with Nora and she had her own life. I started to play every night, and before I knew it, I'd gone through the money in the bank. And the Lucky Lady was willing to extend credit since I had a regular job.

"I kept playing, thinking I'd start winning and pay it all back. I had to, right? Except I didn't. Start winning, I mean. And then one day some weeks ago Nate Turner and Big Ed Dumbrowski turned up at the bank and told me the Lucky Lady had sold them my debt, and now I owed them six thousand dollars. Plus interest. Nora found out about the gambling and the bank account and threw me out, so I got a room here. One night Nate and Ed showed up and I told them I couldn't pay them. That's when they took me to see Morgan Everton.

"He said I had two choices. I could let him sue my sister and me, drag Nora's name and reputation through the mud, take away her house and everything she had. Or I could work for him. That's when he told me he wanted me to kill someone. He won't say who until I agree."

"Just who is this Morgan Everton? What does he do, what does he own, how important is he to Tucson?"

"He owns Monroe's and Minnie's, and two or three of the small businesses around town. And the biggest ranch in the territory. I don't know of anything else. Word is the mayor's in his pocket and half the deputies. As for what he does? He lends money at an outrageous interest rate and takes away people's property when they can't pay him. But he'll give money to people the bank won't touch, and then waits for them to default.

"I don't understand. Why me? Why does he think I'll kill someone for him? Someone I don't even know?"

"There's no rhyme or reason to people like that, Eamon. They have their own morals, their own ideas of right and wrong. No one else is important. Did he give you a deadline for making a decision?" Bret asked, the tone of his voice a lot more sympathetic than it was before.

"Friday." It was Tuesday night – rather, I mean Wednesday morning.

"I'm assuming you have no intention of killing for Morgan Everton."

The answer that came was desperate, pleading, and frantic. "What other choice do I have? Let him destroy my sister and ruin her life . . . "

". . . or commit murder," I finished for him.

"Yeah." Eamon hung his head and looked like he was about to cry. In that position, I might have felt the same way. Bret certainly understood. He'd been forced into a gunfight that he knew to be hopeless rather than let an innocent woman be murdered in Dodge City. Bret had, by some miracle, survived. There had to be a way out of this for Eamon Garrity.


	9. Fences

Chapter 8 – Fences

It was somewhere after two o'clock in the morning when we got back to the hotel, and I was more than ready to go to bed. What had started out as a challenge, to exchange the crutches for a cane probably a week sooner than I should have, had turned into an exhausting proposition. And one I probably shouldn't have made.

I wouldn't have gotten any sympathy from Bret; he was always after me about being too eager to heal whatever wound I was suffering from. He was right, of course, but he had a bad habit of doing the same thing himself, and I was in no mood to hear him tell me what I shouldn't have done.

I bid him goodnight and headed for my room, and I heard him say, "Bart, wait, let's talk about this."

"Can't," I answered. "I'd fall asleep on ya."

"Not even for five minutes?"

"Brother Bret, there is no such thing as five minutes with you. Five turns into ten, then twenty, and an hour later you'd still want to bat it back and forth. Tomorrow. I can't think when I'm this tired."

"Alright. I'll see you in the mornin'."

Of course, I got undressed, boots and all; even laid the gun belt in the bed with me. As soon as I lay down, I was wide awake. Why did this happen? I was worn out, exhausted, and all I wanted to do was sleep. And my mind was having none of it.

I wasn't giving my brother the satisfaction of coming back to the sitting room to talk about Eamon Garrity's predicament. No sir, I was going to lay here until I fell asleep or the morning came, whichever happened first. So I let my mind go wandering. What was Morgan Everton's objective? To be the wealthiest man in the territory? To own the largest ranch? Or a combination of both? Who did he want killed? That was the biggest question of all, and without knowing more about the man, that was the one I couldn't answer. And why pick Eamon? Was he just in the wrong place at the right time? Or did Everton have some ulterior motive?

I kept running the questions over and over in my brain and eventually I fell asleep. Once I got there I stayed there, until I heard knocking at my bedroom door. "Huh?" was the best I could manage, and it was enough for Bret to open the door.

"Don't you have a lunch appointment at noon with Ally?" he asked me.

"Yeah. Why?"

"Because it's past eleven o'clock."

I said something under my breath that wasn't meant to be heard and started to swing out of bed. I got to my feet and as soon as I put any weight on the right leg my knees gave way underneath me, and I'd have hit the floor hard were it not for the quick thinking of my brother. "That leg doesn't like what you did to it, son," he told me, and I was forced to agree with him.

"Well, it's the only right leg I've got, so it has to work," I declared to him as I grabbed for the cane. "Can you do me a favor? Go down to the livery and get the buggy for me, then bring it up here? I promise I'll sit down with you as long as you want to talk about Eamon Garrity when I come back this afternoon."

I was waiting for a lecture about overtaxing my body parts, but I didn't get one. Instead, Bret just shook his head and smiled. "Sure, I can do that for ya. If you can drop me at Nora Garrity's house when you pick up Ally. I want to fill her in on what we found out last night."

I was sort of surprised. "Before we know the whole story?" Then I saw his face and I shut up. His eyes were alive at the prospect of seeing Nora again. I couldn't blame him for that; she was certainly a fine looking woman. "Go on then, scoot. Go get that buggy for me," and I shooed him out of the room so I could get ready.

XXXXXXXX

It was a beautiful day; you'd never know how hard it was raining just yesterday morning. I took Ally to lunch at the Tucson Café, a place you could take a lady and not worry about rowdy cowboys or being disturbed. Besides, the food there was top-notch. Afterward we took a drive, and I showed her all the places I knew from my last sojourn here, and marveled at all the new places that had sprung up since that time. She was impressed with the fact that I knew where things besides saloons were located. When I thought I was Doc Holliday and spent time in Tucson, there was nothing much to do but play poker and try to drink (try being the operative word). So I spent a lot of time riding Noble around the countryside.

There was one particular spot I wanted Ailish to see, and I headed west out of town to show it to her. In the Tucson Mountains a small, obscure lake existed, right in the middle of nowhere, and it reminded me a lot of Little Bend. I didn't know that at the time, but I knew it was comfortable and familiar. The areas didn't look anything alike, but I'd spent many an afternoon lazing under a tree with nothing better to do. We were almost there when we were brought to a halt by a fence with a sign posted that read: **"Private Property – Keep Out. Everton Ranch."** It was my first encounter with anything even remotely associated with Morgan Everton, and I was mightily disappointed to be barred from a spot I had pleasant memories of.

Ally read my unhappiness correctly and asked about it. I explained just a bit of what we'd learned last night from Eamon, excluding where we'd found him and what he was doing at the time. That part I left for Nora to disclose. Included in that explanation was what little we knew of Morgan Everton. Frustrated by our inability to visit a place that held fond memories, I turned the buggy around and drove east. There was one more site I'd frequented during those long days and nights in Tucson, and we headed there now. Upon our arrival we were met with the same result; a fence and a sign barring 'trespassers.' I know, I know, I don't have any right to criticize someone buying land and fencing it off; after all, it is their property. But I already had a feeling about Morgan Everton, and I was rapidly growing more aggravated. I had to remind myself that it wasn't fair or reasonable to intensely dislike a man I hadn't met.

But then I never claimed to be fair or reasonable.

I turned the buggy around once more and drove us back to Tucson. "I'm sorry I couldn't share those places with you, Ally. They really are lovely and I wanted you to see 'em."

She reached over and patted my hand. "It's alright, Bart, I saw them through your eyes, and that will do for now."

We drove back to the rapidly expanding city in relative silence. I hadn't wanted to get into a conversation last night with Bret, but I did now. When I walked Ally up to her door, Nora met us. "I hoped to catch you before you got a chance to slip away, Bart. Bret's coming for dinner tonight at seven o'clock, and I would be pleased if you would join us."

Ally turned back to me and grabbed my hand, the one that didn't hold my cane. "Oh, please do, Bart. It would be no fun at all without you."

How could I resist those beautiful green eyes? "Thank you, Nora, I'll be here with Bret. And you behave yourself, hear?" I kissed Ally on the cheek and limped back to the buggy. I vaguely heard Nora and Ally talking to each other as the door closed but I couldn't catch what they were saying. I drove the buggy back to the hotel, hoping to find Bret in our room. He wasn't, but he'd left me a note. _'Bart – I'm in the dining room. Can you stand another cup of coffee? Bret.'_

I didn't need to be asked twice.


	10. The Happy Man

Chapter 9 – The Happy Man

I hurried down to the dining room (well, as fast as I could hurry) and found Bret nursing a cup of coffee. He signaled the waitress and she brought the coffee pot, filling my cup and refilling his. "Have a good lunch?" he asked me.

"Yes and no. Lunch with Ally was excellent, but I found two reasons to dislike Morgan Everton."

"Without ever meetin' him?"

"Why should that stop me?"

Bret laughed, and I could tell he was in a good mood. Must be the dinner invitation.

"So, you alright with dinner?"

I nodded. "Sure, why not? What's to complain about?"

"I didn't know . . . if you had other plans."

"What other plans?" I asked him. "We've been in Tucson five minutes."

"So tell me what the two reasons are."

I proceeded to explain the fenced off areas that I tried to show Ally. And who they evidently belonged to.

"That goes hand in hand with what I heard from Nora today." So he had done more than just moon over the beautiful Irish woman.

"And that would be?" I prompted him.

"That Morgan Everton is gambling on Arizona being a state sooner rather than later and if he's the biggest landowner, he's the logical choice for governor."

"Lofty ambitions."

"And unbridled hubris. In the meantime, he's doin' everything he can to build this town to his likin'. He's got a candidate for sheriff and a candidate for mayor in the election next month."

"We gotta get a meetin' with this guy, and not just as local gamblers. Nate and Ed left before I got to Dodge City, right?"

"Yeah." Bret had that look in his eye, that 'what are you up to now?' look.

"I worked for Orin Johnson in Dodge City. What if we passed me off as takin' over his operation after Hinkle killed him?"

"Why didn't Hinkle take over?"

I blinked once or twice. Had Bret forgotten? "I shot him, Bret. Remember?"

My brother, the unflappable one, looked confused for a moment. "You did?"

"Yeah, he was aimin' to shoot me. I got him first."

"And he's dead, Bart?"

"Yes. You don't remember that, do you?" I was concerned. It wasn't like Bret to forget something that major. Even if he was just beginning to heal from his own gunfight with Rob Hinkel. The doctor had pronounced him dead at the scene. It was only after 'the body' had been returned to the doctor's office that he discovered Bret had a feeble pulse. He hovered for days between life and death, and it took him months to recover from the injuries. But it troubled me that he didn't remember Hinkel's ultimate demise.

"Can't say that I do." I was willing to let it go for now, but when this was all over I'd feel better talking to a doctor about Bret's lapse in memory.

"Anyway, we could use that as an 'in' to see Everton. Tell him I disbanded the setup in Dodge after I found out you were alive, with the hopes of moving the operation out here and startin' over. Whatta ya think?"

For just a minute more Bret looked confused, uncertain, then his face cleared and he refocused on what I'd suggested. "It might work. Nate and Ed can vouch for my bein' in Dodge and the conflict with Hinkel. It's worth a try. After supper tonight – let's see if we can put out the word that you wanna see Everton. I'll let 'em know I'm workin' for you. But I wanna be in on any meetin'."

"Agreed. I got the feelin' this is gonna take both of us if we're gonna pull it off." It was worth a shot, to see if I could be as cool with Morgan Everton as I'd been with Orin Johnson. And it seemed like our only way in to see if we could find out just who Everton wanted dead.

XXXXXXXX

We were back at the house on Willow Street at seven o'clock, as promised. Ally answered the door, and she just sparkled. "Well, if it isn't the Maverick brothers. Come in, gentlemen. Supper is almost ready."

My leg wasn't bothering me near as much as it had yesterday, and I moved quicker than I had. "Walking better, I see," Nora commented as we got inside.

"Yes, ma'am. It's amazin' what good some rest will do for you. How are you two doin'? Ailish, have you gotten settled in yet?"

"I have," she answered, and turned that brilliant smile on me. "I'm almost completely unpacked. It's so nice to have a room to myself again." I guess I must have looked startled, because she explained. "I shared a room with the children when I was a nanny. It's so lovely to sleep through the night and not get woken up every few minutes. Sheer heaven, I'd call it." Then she laughed, that magical, melodious laugh, and for just a moment all was right with the world.

"Would you like coffee," Nora asked, "or would you rather wait for supper? I have some ready now."

"I'd like some now if it's not too much trouble," Bret answered her. "Can I help?"

Nora graced Brother Bret with a smile, and he had that look in his eyes again. She walked into the kitchen and he followed her out . . .

I glanced at Ally, who was watching them with a grin on her face. "I do believe your brother's smitten."

I leaned over and whispered to her, "I do believe you're right." I put my hand on her arm and she turned her head until she was looking right at me. "I don't think he's the only one," I added, and I finally got to lean down and finish the kiss I started in the stage coach. Her lips were soft and tender, and her mouth tasted like peach jam. She put her arms around my neck and leaned into me, and as I leaned on the cane with my left hand I wrapped my right arm around her and kissed her properly. We both pulled back when we heard footsteps.

"Coffee, Brother Bart?"

"Sure," I answered brightly. At that moment, I was indeed a happy man.


	11. Touche'

Chapter 10 – Touché

One more lovely evening with the two Irish gentlewomen that ended far too soon. What did it say about the Maverick brothers that we would rather spend the night with the ladies than playing poker? Maybe it had just been too long since any kind of romance had filled our lives.

In any case, we bid farewell to Ally and Nora and set about our task of spreading the word that there was a new 'crime lord' in town. By the time the sun came up people were telling the tale to us, and my 'reputation' preceded me. So it was really no surprise when we were eating breakfast and visitors appeared.

First up was the current sheriff, John Fordham. This was not the same man that had been the local law when I was shot here by the cowboy that wouldn't leave me alone; the one Doc Holliday killed to save my life. John Fordham was forty years old, at the very most, and quite soft-spoken for a lawman. I knew who he was only because our waitress told us as she was pouring more coffee for us. "Coffee, sheriff?" I asked as he approached, already having a cup poured for him.

"Mr. Maverick?" he asked, and Bret and I both grinned.

"That would be us," Bret answered.

"Bart Maverick?"

"Me," I shot back. "What can I do for you, sheriff?"

"I understand you've come from Dodge City."

"Not directly, but I was there for a while."

Fordham sat down and picked up the cup. "Working for Orin Johnson?"

"For a while."

"Until he was killed?"

I smiled. "That's right."

"By you, Mr. Maverick?"

I shook my head. "No, sir. By Rob Hinkel."

"And Mr. Hinkel?" the sheriff continued.

"Dead."

"Killed by you?"

"In self-defense," Bret answered him this time.

"And just why did you leave Dodge City, Mr. Maverick?"

"Too many bad memories, Sheriff Fordham?"

Bret stepped in again, like a good second-in-command would. "Why all the questions, sheriff? Is there somethin' you wanna know that you haven't asked?"

"What are you doing here in Tucson?"

I finished my coffee and set the cup down before I answered the sheriff's question. "Visiting, so far. Thought I might open a business here. You do allow new businesses here, don't you, sheriff?"

"Legitimate businesses, Mr. Maverick." Fordham was walking a fine line between law and lawlessness, just like I was trying to make him think I was.

"Why, sheriff, what other kind would there be?"

Fordham stood up and looked down at both of us. "No other kind, Mr. Maverick. It's taken a while to get this town cleaned up, and we'd like it to stay that way. See to it that it does. Good day, gentlemen."

Once he was gone, Bret turned to me. "You bad, bad man. Whatever are you planning for poor, innocent Tucson?"

I didn't have a chance to answer before we had our second visitor. Or rather, visitors. Nate Turner and Ed Dumbrowski walked into the dining room and didn't stand on ceremony; they walked right over to our table and sat down. As was their usual habit, according to my brother, Nate did most of the talking.

"Maverick, we thought you was dead."

Bret laughed a little. "Do I look dead to you, Nate?"

"Nope. You look real alive. This the man that saved your hide?"

Big brother nodded. "And took over Orin Johnson's operation. My brother Bart. This is Nate Turner and Big Ed Dumbrowski, who used to work for Orin before they ran away."

"Got sent to Texas to handle a problem." Big Ed finally spoke.

"An didn't bother to come back to Dodge?" Bret asked

Nate shrugged. "Orin was dead by the time we got done. What was the sense?"

"You could've worked for me," I told them.

"Got a new boss."

"So we've heard," Bret informed them.

"Mr. Everton wants to know why you're here."

"I'll tell you the same thing I just told the sheriff. I'm interested in settin' up a business here." I reached into my pocket and pulled out a cigar, and Brother Bret played the part and lit it for me.

"Mr. Everton ain't gonna like that," Nate declared.

"Too bad," and I punctuated my words with a cloud of smoke.

"Wants to see you."

"Good. Tell him we're up in Suite 316, anytime he wants to come by."

"Wants to see you now."

Nate's hands had disappeared under the table, and the sound of the hammer on his gun was loud in the stillness of the dining room. "Put that thing away," Bret told him. "Before I have to shoot you myself." It was all too clear that Bret's gun was already out and pointed at Nate, and ready to carry out his threat.

Nate Turner looked at my brother questioningly. "What happened to you? You was a pain in Orin's side, now yer workin' for yer brother?"

Bret shrugged. "I guess almost gettin' killed does somethin' to ya. Put the gun away, Nate."

Turner might be uneducated, but he wasn't stupid. In just a minute his hands reappeared on top of the table. "Mr. Everton still wants to see you. Now."

"What if we don't wanna see him?" Bret asked.

Nate and Big Ed looked at each other. I don't think anyone had ever asked them that before. Bret turned to me. I had the feeling that we both believed we'd pushed this as far as we dared. "Where is he?"

Nate was quick to answer, relieved to be out of a mess he had no answer for. "Up the street, about three blocks."

Bret holstered his gun and paid the bill. "Brother Bart, are you ready?"

"I am, Brother Bret. Let's go." We stood and I grabbed my cane, and both of Everton's 'henchmen' looked surprised. "Even the boss gets shot once in a while," I told them.

The two men hurried out in front of us and led the way down the street. Big Ed kept turning around to make sure we were still following them. They were right, about three blocks away there was a small office with the words 'Everton Investments' painted on the window. Nothing ostentatious, just an average looking office. We went in and it was nothing fancy inside, either; none of the pretentious trappings that Orin Johnson had. There was an attractive young lady wearing glasses and a puzzled expression sitting at the front desk.

"Nate, is Mr. Everton expecting you?"

"Yes, ma'am, he is. You can tell him I got the Mavericks with me, too."

She nodded and got up from the desk. "Wait here, please."

She knocked on a door about five feet behind her and stuck her head in the office. I could hear her voice but not what she said; in addition a masculine voice answered hers. She came back out and nodded again at all of us. "You can go in," she told Nate and me, but pointed at Big Ed and Bret. "You wait out here."

"No," I told her. "Not goin' anywhere without my brother."

"Fine," was her only remark, and Bret walked in right behind me. Big Ed scurried in after Bret.

The office was fairly significant, but again it was furnished simply. A desk with two chairs in front of it and a bookcase that stretched across the entire back wall; it was filled with what looked like law books and ledgers. On the left corner of the desk sat a large gray cat, with long black whiskers and a black nose and tail, and the oddest looking blue cat eyes I'd ever seen. He watched everyone carefully, as if he was in charge of the room. Ed and Nate took up positions on the blank wall behind us, and never said a word.

The man behind the desk was younger than I'd expected; maybe the same age as Sheriff Fordham, forty at the most. He was sitting but appeared to be a tall man, as tall as Bret, with blonde hair that was rapidly turning gray. I wondered if he got the cat to match his hair color and almost laughed. He looked more like a gambler than an investments man, or even a 'crime lord.' He was dressed elegantly, with black pants and a matching vest; a black silk-looking coat hung across the back of his chair. He wore a black string tie, more like Bret's than mine, and the finishing touch – a bright red silk shirt. All-in-all, a quite impressive looking figure. He looked right at Bret and never gave me so much as a glance.

"Bart Maverick?" he asked my brother, who shook his head.

"I'm Bart Maverick," I spoke up. "This is my brother, Bret."

He looked mildly surprised. It was evident he'd expected Bart to be the older brother. "The Bart Maverick that ran Orin Johnson's operation in Dodge City?"

"One and the same," I told him. "My brother came to work for me after I'd already taken over the business there."

Turner spoke up from behind us. "He's the one that Hinkel killed."

"Certainly looks dead to me," Everton remarked snidely. "Are you?"

"Am I what?" Bret questioned, in the same snide tone of voice the man in front of us had used.

This time, the tone was a lot more civil. "The man that Rob Hinkel shot and killed who came back to life?"

I never realized how good Bret was at playing bad. "Yes," he answered in a flat tone of voice, without elaborating.

The red silk shirt turned back to me. "And you killed Hinkel?"

"I'm sorry, we haven't been formally introduced. You are?"

Everton gave a little laugh. "Touché. I'm Morgan Everton. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Maverick." He stood and my guess was correct, he was about Bret's height, maybe two inches taller than me. He reached across the desk and offered his hand to me. I looked at my brother and then I stood, also, and shook the hand of the man that was trying to get Eamon Garrity to kill – who? That's why we were here; to try and find out. We both sat back down. I caught the quick flash of disdain in my brother's eyes, but he shut it down quickly. Bret didn't like playing second fiddle to 'little brother.'

"And the answer to your question is yes," I told him. I had the distinct feeling this was not going to be easy.


	12. Chateaubriand in a Different Light

Chapter 11 – Chateaubriand in a Different Light

"That," Morgan Everton said, "was quite an accomplishment."

"That," I replied, "was self-defense. That's the way the marshal saw it."

"If you don't mind my asking, why did you shut the business down?"

"To take care of me," Bret told him.

"No disrespect, Mr. Maverick, but surely with your brother's money he could have hired – "

"No," I interrupted. "I strung things out as long as I could. Johnson had left so many holes in the operation that it had begun to collapse. With Hinkel gone, I needed somebody to protect my back. It was going to be several months before Bret was well enough physically to do that. So I sold what I could, closed the rest, and took the time Bret needed. Then we decided to move the operation west."

"To Tucson?"

"Possibly. We've also spent some time lookin' at Yuma, and a nice place a little further north named Phoenix. I hadn't been in Tucson for a while, so we came here from Yuma to see how the city had grown. I'm suitably impressed."

"And just what kind of business are you looking to start? Something similar to what was being run in Dodge?" Morgan's voice had lost all its skepticism and he was behaving as if this was just an ordinary, everyday business meeting.

"Along those lines," I told him. The gray cat, who had been perched on the corner of the desk watching everything, suddenly stood up and stretched. He eyed Bret warily and walked right past him, choosing me instead to stand in front of. Without any kind of warning the cat jumped down and planted himself in my lap.

I was already scratching his head when Morgan spoke up. "Lucius, whatever has gotten into you?" The cat sat on my lap and purred. "He's never done that; he's very particular. He must sense a kindred spirit in you."

There was a frightening thought. Did Morgan choose his business associates based on his cat's predilections? I knew I was never gonna hear the end of this from Bret, but I let the cat stay in my lap as long as he chose to. Finally, he jumped back up and walked over to sit beside Morgan's arm on the desk.

"Well, I'm quite pleased that we were finally able to meet, Mr. Maverick. Could you join me for dinner at the Cattlemen's Club tonight at eight o'clock? Both of you, of course. Would that be acceptable?"

I looked at Bret and saw that flash of disdain again – quickly replaced by a broad smile. "We'd be delighted, Mr. Everton."

This time, all three of us stood up, and Morgan Everton shook hands with both Bret and me. Lucius sat and stared. I reached for my cane and Everton seemed to see it for the first time. "Nothing serious, I hope?"

"A minor inconvenience," I replied. Bret waited for me to lead the way, and followed me out into the front office. I could almost see his teeth grinding as we walked. He was solicitous of my limping and offered his arm in support. I waved him off and continued on outside. We walked back down the street in silence, turning into the hotel and then straight upstairs to our suite.

I plummeted onto the settee, worn out from all the walking and the long night and longer morning we'd just finished, and dropped my hat on the table in front of me. Bret took a seat across from me. There was a twinkle in his eyes that hadn't been there before. "You make a convincing criminal," he told me.

"Evidently the only one I had to convince was Lucius," I pointed out.

"Are there things in your past I don't know about?" I didn't know if he was kidding or serious. Considering how long it had taken me to tell him the complete truth about Mexico, I'm not sure I blamed him for wondering.

"Other than a minor skirmish due to Dandy Jim or Doc, nope. I'm clean as a whistle."

"Everton seemed impressed," he stated rather brusquely.

"Isn't that what we were trying to accomplish?"

"True, it was. Remind me what a good actor you are the next time we need to con someone." There was a mixture of pride and admiration in his voice.

"I learned from the best," I reminded him.

"Pappy?"

"You, big brother."

XXXXXXXX

Within a few minutes I was in bed, and this time I went to sleep with no trouble. Like I said before, I was exhausted. I slept peacefully, with no strange dreams or nightmares, and woke up much later in the day feeling better. Another shave and fresh clothes were in order, and it was around seven thirty when I rejoined the land of the living. As usual, Bret was ready and waiting for me.

"We do clean up nicely," he told me as I joined him in the sitting room. "You're limping less."

"It's not as stiff," I told him. "How's your shoulder?"

"Gettin' close to normal. Let's see if we can get through this without any war wounds, shall we?"

"Wouldn't that be nice? And highly unusual."

"Come on, Mr. Crime Boss. Let's go have supper."

The Cattleman's Club was down the street and one block over from the hotel, right next door to Fancy's. The Club had been there first and protested loud and long when Fancy's opened right next door. It did no good at all. Both establishments thrived, although drawing entirely different clientele. At least Fancy's wasn't your average drunken cowboy bar; they were, as the name indicated, Fancy. The long wooden bar was polished mahogany – it reminded me of the bar at the original Three Mavericks Saloon in Montana. The one that Harry polished endlessly; it was his pride and joy. The poker tables were all at one end and the roulette wheels, Faro games, and whatever else existed was at the other end.

The Cattleman's was loud and boisterous, and filled with as much smoke as Fancy's. This dining establishment, unlike the Tucson Steak House, was populated strictly by the men of the town. No self-respecting lady would be caught dead inside. A tremendous amount of business was conducted here, and the men that conducted that business could get quietly drunk before slipping next door to the bar and the saloon girls. Bret entered first and told the maître d' "Maverick for Everton's table," and the man practically jumped.

"Yes, sir, Mr. Maverick. Right this way, please. Mr. Everton is waiting for you gentlemen in his private dining room."

We were early, but Everton was even earlier. His private dining room, eh? Sounded like Morgan ate here on a fairly regular basis. And the room was indeed, just that – a dining room, with walls and a door, and not simply a curtained off enclosure. Stationed outside the door, like palace guards, were Nate Turner and Big Ed. The maître d' knocked on the door and then entered, leading the two of us inside. Morgan was already seated, with a wine goblet on the table in front of him. Two other places were set, one for each of us and on either side of him.

He was dressed in a similar but more formal fashion than this morning. The suit, this time, was a dark charcoal gray, with striped pants and a silver colored vest, and a white silk shirt with a tall collar and a gray velvet string tie. I almost expected Lucius to be sitting somewhere close by. Bret and I were both in black frock coats and black pants, and between the three of us, we looked like we were going to a high-class funeral.

"Bart, Bret, so glad you could make it. Please be seated. Send Marie in please, Henri."

"Marie?" I questioned.

"I refuse to have one of these stuffy waiters trying to take care of me. Marie is . . . well, you'll see. She takes care of my dining room, only."

Ah, there it was, the hubris, the arrogance, the privilege – to not only have a private dining room in a restaurant but to employee a woman to wait on you because you didn't want to deal with a man. In just a minute Marie entered, and I have to admit she was not what I expected. A little older than your average saloon girl, she was dressed quite formally, with her hair up in a bun, and she carried a tray with two wine glasses and an unopened bottle. She placed the glasses in front of my brother and me, and then expertly opened the bottle, pouring some in each glass. It was another red wine, a little on the sweet side, but with a rather tangy aftertaste. Not bad. Bret tasted it and almost made a face; I could see he didn't care for it. Morgan raised his glass. "A toast, gentlemen, to new friends and profitable business relationships."

We joined him in the toast. Bret took just a sip of his wine and set the glass down. "What do you recommend, Morgan?" I asked our host.

"Ah, if you'll trust me, I've already arranged for the meal. The meat is called Chateaubriand and you've never tasted anything like it. With all the usual trimmings, of course. Is that acceptable?"

I had the distinct feeling I was gonna be eating meat that was gonna walk into the room of its own free will and crawl up on a plate in front of me. I wouldn't like it, but I'd eat it. We had to make some progress when it came to discovering just who it was Morgan wanted killed, and we were running out of time. I wasn't gonna do anything that would offend our host, and if that meant eating barely cooked beef, so be it.

We talked about Morgan's lending business, and the protection racket that Orin (and Bart Maverick) had operated in Dodge City. I explained the whole business and the way Orin ran the funds through the saloon, and I had a rapt listener in Mr. Everton. And another one, surprisingly, in my brother. I don't think he had any idea how deeply I'd gotten into Johnson's business before bringing it all to a halt. We continued the back-and-forth all through dinner.

There was one thing that Morgan Everton was correct about – the Chateaubriand was excellent. Fortunately it was cooked, maybe not as much as I would have liked, but the darn thing was quite tasty as it was. Maybe there was something I should investigate about the way I ate my steak after all. I just wouldn't admit that in front of Bret.

Finally the conversation turned to the upcoming elections. It was evident from the way Morgan talked about John Fordham that he thoroughly disliked the sheriff; he was backing a man named Spencer Weston. Weston, however, was not garnering a lot of excitement or support, and I couldn't help wondering if Sheriff Fordham was Eamon Garrity's potential target. From the glance I got from Bret the same question had crossed his mind.

Then Everton complicated matters when we discussed the mayor. The rumors about the current mayor being on Morgan's payroll were evidently untrue, because he had a horse in this race, too, Michael O'Reilly. "Irish Mike?" I asked, and Morgan laughed.

"Yeah, that's him alright. Mike actually worked for me for a while, until he won the saloon in a poker game and renamed it. We're good friends, and we think alike. I don't know what kind of a mayor he'll be, but at least we agree on the way things should be done around here. And he seems to be leading in the mayor's race. If we can get a sheriff and a mayor elected that's more to our liking, that'll open the town up to our kind of business."

"What happens if Weston doesn't win?" I asked him. "Then you've got the right kind of mayor and the wrong kind of sheriff."

"I'm hoping to have that problem under control. I'll know soon. So what do you think, Bart? Does this sound like the kind of place you might set up shop? I think our businesses could work hand in hand here."

' _Yeah,'_ I thought, _'to cheat everybody in the valley out of their hard earned money.'_ "I think it's got distinct possibilities, Morgan. There's just a few more things I need to investigate before I make a commitment. Sounds like everything's good, though. It shouldn't take me long to make a decision."

"Before the election, right? Sooner is better, Bart."

"I understand. I'll have an answer for you within the week."

Supper and business talk concluded, we made arrangements to meet for breakfast Sunday. Bret and I both thanked him for dinner and the evening and finally got out of there, about eleven thirty. We stopped in Fancy's for a minute – I needed coffee to clear my head.

"You know an awful lot about Johnson's operation in Dodge," Bret said to me once we'd both gotten coffee and found a table not occupied by a poker game.

"I wasn't lyin' when I said I ran the operation, Bret. It's just that I ran the saloon and the legal side of the business. But all the books and the money were there with Sally, and once I knew you were alive I sat down and went over everything with a fine-tooth comb for Marshal Hillis. It was a slick set-up; rotten to the core, but slick. That's why I know so much about it. And it's a good thing I do. I never thought it would come in handy again, but it sure has. By the way, whatta ya think? Is Everton gonna send Eamon after the sheriff?"

"That's what it sounds like to me," Bret agreed. "The mayor seems to have a much better chance of gettin' elected."

"And if the rumors about Everton and the deputies are true . . . "

"The majority of law enforcement in Tucson will be under the control of the crime bosses. That includes you, Brother Bart."

"Ya know, if we play this thing right we just might be able to bust the whole set-up to pieces," I told him. Once again there was a look in Bret's eyes that I didn't . . . like isn't the right word, maybe understand. Was there something goin' on here that I didn't know about? Before I could say anything big brother shut the look down, and it left me wondering just what it was I was missing. He didn't think I really wanted to be a crime boss, did he? Why would he even entertain that notion? No, it had to be somethin' else; I just didn't know what.


	13. Cowardice and Genius

Chapter 12 – Cowardice and Genius

Okay, I've sat back and watched all this for a while, and I think it's time I said something. My brother had me worried. Really worried. Just how deep had Bart gotten into Orin Johnson's organization in Dodge City, either before or after Sally Bodeen's death? How deep in the muck and mud did he hafta get to run the floor for her, and how much deeper did he go after he took over?

And why was this bothering me? I'd spent more than enough time with my brother to know that he was honest – at least as honest as I was, which might not always be saying a lot. After all, he was the one that had backed out of the saloon robbery he was supposed to participate in when he was fifteen years old, without any pressure or encouragement from me or Pappy. In all the time since I'd never seen him do one thing that was blatantly illegal. Well, unless it involved Dandy Jim Buckley or Doc Holliday, and then it was usually Bart trying to keep them from bending the law.

I guess it was just the easy way he fell in with Morgan Everton. He looked and sounded so natural, like this was something he'd done many times before and would do many times in the future. It didn't seem to be bothering him one bit, not like it was bothering me. I didn't like practically getting into bed with criminals, hobnobbing with men who broke the law on a regular basis and seemed to think nothing of it. But I failed to understand why I couldn't let it go.

I've always professed to be a coward. A true-blue, dyed-in-the-wool coward. Alright, I might not be, but there's never been any reason for me to admit that. Bart had taken up that same refrain, maybe because he'd heard it so often from me, but my little brother was actually anything but a coward. He plunged full-steam-ahead into things that made me cringe. Just like this mess with Garrity and Everton. Maybe that's what was troubling me. I was the older brother, the one that should be pushing forward on some of these things. The way I had with Molly Hooper and the Cattle Consortium. Sometimes I didn't – I let Bart take the lead, 'run the operation,' so to speak. I guess that's why this bothered me so much now; I was afraid that something would happen, and Bart would get hurt or killed. And it would be my fault.

As for the other thing still rattling around in my head – Nora Garrity. The first time I saw her, she took my breath away. I hadn't had that happen in a long, long time. Since – well, in a long time. The more I looked at her, the more I thought I recognized her from somewhere. I just couldn't remember where. I let Bart think I was mistaken because I didn't want him to worry anymore about me than he was already doing. Yeah, I saw the look in his eye when I couldn't remember about Rob Hinkel. He had enough weight on his shoulders to carry, he sure didn't need to be concerned about his absent-minded older brother. But what I'd told him was the truth – I didn't remember Rob Hinkle being dead. Or that Bart was the one that shot him.

It's not the first time I'd forgotten something important. It just seemed to be the first time that Bart really noticed it. And now this – trying to place Nora Garrity and not being able to. How could anyone in their right mind forget a woman that looked like that? Yet I had. I'd no doubt that it would come to me eventually – it always did. But what was it that was hindering that right now? I had no answers.

So – the best thing I could do at the moment was quit worrying, about where I knew Nora from, and whether my brother was a secret genius criminal mastermind. I do love him, but this is Bart Maverick we're talkin' about. A heart as big as all outdoors, but evil or any other kind of genius he's not.

And that's about all I have to say for right now.


	14. Problem Solving

Chapter 13 – Problem Solving

The next morning the sun didn't come up. Or rather, if it came up we couldn't see it. The wind was raging so bad that half of Tucson was blowing around in the street. You'd never believe it had rained just two short days ago; the land had been so parched for moisture that everything was absorbed deep into the ground, and when the monsoon winds kicked up on Friday morning, at least the top inch of soil went with them. Bret and I went down to an early breakfast – that's what happens when you go to sleep at a reasonable hour – and before our food came the winds had turned to pouring rain. "Didn't we just go through this?" I whined, and Bret laughed.

"It's the desert, Brother Bart. And it's monsoon season. Don't think we're goin' on that ride you wanted to try." Yeah, I know. Another brilliant idea shot in the foot, or in this case, the calf.

It had been a while since I'd been hurt, and the leg felt stronger every day. I wanted to give it a workout and see how it felt, and give poor Noble a workout while we were at it. I'm sure that my gelding was on the verge of insanity, if he hadn't been before. But unless you had a death wish, nobody was going anywhere in this weather.

"Shall we go find some ne'er-do-wells and see if we can get into their poker game?" It was the best suggestion I had; either that or back to bed.

"Why not?" was Bret's answer, and we were about to leave to do just that when Eamon Garrity came running through the front doors of the hotel, soaked to the skin. He talked to the desk clerk and then headed for the dining room and, it appeared, the two of us. When he got close Bret threw an unused napkin at him. "Dry yourself off," was my brother's advice.

"Thanks," was all Eamon said, and at least dried off his face. "Is there somewhere we can talk?" he asked.

"Upstairs," I told him and, since it was my turn, I paid for breakfast and we headed for the upper floors. I was still using the cane, but stairs were about the only place I needed it. Once we got to the room and Bret unlocked the door he made straight for his room and emerged with a dry towel, which he handed to Eamon.

"Thanks for not throwing that one," Eamon told Bret as he began drying himself as best he could.

"Not workin' today?" Bret asked as we all sat down on the settees.

"I was," the Irishman answered, "but Mr. Fitzpatrick closed the bank. Said nobody'd go out in this anyway. So I hurried over here to see if you'd found out anything."

"Quite a bit," I started. "We not only met Morgan Everton, we had dinner with him last night."

"Charming fellow," Bret said, with that same disdain in his voice. "Although he made somethin' happen I never thought I'd live to see."

"What was that?" Eamon asked eagerly.

"My brother ate meat that wasn't burned to a crisp." Bret smiled like somebody'd just given him a Christmas present. I should have known he'd bring it up sooner or later.

"Eamon doesn't care about that," I admonished Bret. "Everton believes that I'm here lookin' at Tucson as a place to start a new business – or rather, an old one. Similar to an operation that I helped destroy in Dodge City – a protection racket."

Garrity looked confused. "But how does that – "

"He thinks I ran the thing. He doesn't know I helped bring about its downfall."

"Helped?" Bret asked. "You toppled the whole organization, by yourself."

"Just tryin' to get even for them killin' my brother."

"What? You had another brother?" Eamon was now very confused.

"No, no, I mean this one," I replied, pointing to Bret. For the next few minutes, me and Bret took turns explaining the goin's on in Dodge City. When we were done Garrity just sat there, a stunned look on his face.

"Did Ally know that story when she asked the two of you to help with this mess?"

"Nope."

"Boy, she sure picked the right men. Do you believe in fate?"

"No," Bret answered before I could say anything. "But we do believe in beautiful women."

"Back to Everton. We've got him convinced that Tucson is probably my choice to set the business back up out west. He wants me to join him in controllin' crime in the town. He's got a lot ridin' on the elections next month, and he's pretty sure his candidate is a shoo-in for mayor. The sheriff is another matter."

"So you think – "

"That Sheriff Fordham is probably the man he wants you to murder? Yep, we do." I felt sorry for him. The look on his face careened somewhere between absolute terror and total disgust.

"I can't do that."

Bret kind of chuckled. "We never figured you could, Eamon. We're workin' on a way around it."

"How?" Garrity asked.

"I said we're workin' on it, I didn't say we had it worked out yet."

"What should I do now?"

"When are you supposed to give him an answer?" was my next question.

"Tonight after work. He told me to be in his office at six sharp."

"Then make sure you are. Act as reluctant as you can, but let him know you'll do what he wants. And whatever ya do, tell him you need some time to plan it. As much as you can get." That was as far as my thinking had gone.

"And make sure he agrees to your terms. That you get a physical receipt that shows the debt paid in full when the job's done," Bret added.

"What if . . . what if he doesn't believe me?"

I told him as firmly as I could, "Make sure he does. Whatever it takes."

After what Bret had told me the night before, I hoped that Eamon would prove to be as good an actor as I evidently was.

XXXXXXXX

It rained and stormed all day, never once letting up; no respite for those weary of the downpour. After Eamon left the suite, Bret and I sat in silence for more than a few minutes. I wasn't sure where to go from here; I don't know if he was, either. Finally he looked over at me and grinned. "Think anybody's playin' poker this time of the day, in this weather?"

"Don't see what else they could be doin' on a day like this," I answered, and tried my darndest to grin back at him.

"Alright – so neither one of us knows where to go next. That's about it, ain't it?" Trust Bret to hit the nail on the head.

"Yeah," I replied. "We got Everton right where we wanted him. Now whatta we do with him?"

"Let's go find us a poker game. Maybe we can play our way out."

That made perfect sense to me. Ever since we were kids, when either of us had a problem to solve, we went to one of two places – the spot up on the hill under the Desert Willow Tree where Momma was buried or the poker table. There was something about the noise and the smoke and the way poker made you concentrate that did just that – forced you to think about what you were doing rather than the question you were lookin' to answer. I do some of my best thinkin' when I'm playin' poker, and I know it's the same for Bret. So the two of us got up, resolute that we'd find a way out of the predicament we found ourselves in, and headed for the Lucky Lady.

Half the town must have had a problem to solve, because the saloon was darn near full. Bret found a game right away, and I found a table where I could, at least, drink coffee and play Maverick Solitaire until a spot opened up. I'd only been sitting there about ten or fifteen minutes when somebody else sat down at the same table, across from me. I looked up from what I was doing right straight into the face of John Fordham.

"Well, sheriff, I see you've taken refuge from the storm like so many of the rest of us have."

The tone of his voice was flat and disinterested, but his eyes were alive. "Your brother here, too?" he asked me, and I nodded. "Where?" was his next question. I pointed to Bret, three tables away.

"You want us for somethin'?"

"Nope." That was all he said, then he got up and walked over to stand behind Bret. As soon as the hand was over he tapped Bret on the shoulder and leaned down to tell him something. Next, he gave Bret what looked like a telegram, then turned around and walked away. Bret said something to him but I couldn't hear what, and I noticed that a spot had opened at one of the other poker games. My curiosity would have to wait. I needed to play poker.


	15. Just Walk Away

Chapter 14 – Just Walk Away

Funny how much good five hours of poker can do for you. Course it doesn't hurt when you win almost six hundred dollars. That's the advantage of playing during a monsoon – nobody gets up and leaves, no matter how poorly they're playing, because there's nowhere to go.

I didn't have everything worked out completely, but I had the basic plan in place. At least, the plan that worked at that exact moment. Everything was going to get entirely upended, but I didn't know that then. Bret had left a while ago; I assumed to go back to the hotel. He gave me our usual 'catch ya later' wink when he left, and he seemed in no particular hurry to go. So whatever Sheriff Fordham had given him caused no sense of urgency. Or so I thought.

It was a productive day, at least for my wallet, and I was hungry. You have to know the peculiarities of my stomach to know how unusual that was for me. Nine times out of ten when everybody else was hungry, I wasn't. And even when I was, it didn't take very much to satisfy me. So the fact that I was really, really famished indicated that I'd made a good amount of progress on the Everton-Garrity problem.

I wasn't interested in another meal at the hotel, the same acceptable but bland food, and I wandered on down the sidewalk. Halfway down the block on the same side of the street was Rosa's Cantina. It let me eat more interesting fare without getting drowned to do so. I went in and was seated by Rosa herself, as she informed me when she smiled at me and told me what the cook had prepared for today's lunch. I ordered and had already had a cup of coffee when who should walk in but Brother Bret, and he wasn't alone. Ailish O'Rourke was with him.

I was startled, to say the least. Bret had shown no interest whatsoever in Ally, either on the stage coach or at any of the way stations. What were they doing here now? It didn't take long for me to find out, as they made their way to my table and sat down. "Miss O'Rourke. Mr. Maverick. Something going on I should know about?"

Ally laughed, then leaned over and kissed my cheek. "Aye, I'm crazy about your brother and we're running away together. As soon as the rain stops." Cute. I laughed at my own foolishness and looked at Bret.

"I had some questions about Nora, and I couldn't think of anybody more qualified to answer them than Ally. Fortunately she seems to be immune to the fear of goin' out in the rain that the rest of us possess. What are you doin' here?"

'Starvin'," I replied, just as Rosa brought my very late lunch.

Bret took one look at the plate set down before me and told Rosa, "We'll have two more of those, please. And two coffees. Gracias."

Ally giggled. "I can't eat that much food."

"Don't feel bad," I told her. "Neither can I." But I was going to do my very best. As I ate, Bret began his questions.

"Nora and Eamon were born and raised in New York, weren't they?"

"Aye. That's where we first met, when we were all wee young ones. Nora and I were seven or eight, and Eamon was about five. I was born in Ireland, but my family emigrated when I was but a babe. We lived in New York, on the same block as the Garrity's, until we moved to Pennsylvania when I was sixteen. Nora and I had already decided we were going to live together when we were old enough, but there were some years where we thought that wasn't going to happen."

"Why is that?" I asked.

"Nora's mother and father died within six months of each other, and she got a job and took care of her brother. She ended up working in Kansas for several years, and I was in San Francisco. When she and Eamon moved here and he got into trouble, we finally decided enough was enough. You know the rest of the story."

"You said she worked in Kansas. That didn't happen to be in Dodge City, did it?" Bret asked, and I wondered where that question had come from. Was it connected to the mysterious telegram that Fordham delivered to Bret at the Lucky Lady?

"As a matter of fact, for a while it was. Things didn't seem to work out so well there, and she went on to Kansas City. She did a whole lot better in Kansas City."

Dodge City? Was she there when Bret . . . no, that was too much of a coincidence. Wasn't it? But it would explain where he'd seen her before.

"What kind of work did she do, Ally?"

Was I imagining things, or was there just a little bit of hesitation on Ally's part? Didn't she know? Or maybe she didn't want us to know. "A little of everything, I think. She was trained as a nurse, but not everyone wants to employ a woman nurse. She's been a teacher, and a seamstress, and whatever else she had to be to get by."

"She doesn't work now?" I asked.

"Not at the moment. Her aunt passed and left her a small inheritance. Her, not Eamon. Nora gave him half out of the goodness of her heart, and he gambled it away."

"And she would have been doing the same thing in Dodge City when she was there?" Bret was getting at something, and I was sure I'd have to wait until later to find out what.

"Aye, that she would."

Plates arrived for the two latecomers, and things got quiet for a bit as everyone ate. I finally gave up and put down my fork. "I'm stuffed," I announced.

"Hey, that's better than usual," Bret remarked. "More than half of it. You really were hungry."

I sat back and watched the two of them eat. Ally gave up not long after I did; she'd not quite gotten to the halfway point in her meal. Bret, as usual, cleaned his plate. I'll never understand where he puts all of the food he swallows. I sat and sipped coffee, watching him finish in awe.

Ally noticed it, too. "Are you sure you're brothers?" she asked.

"Oh yeah," I told her. "Except when it comes to eatin'. Then I think we can't be related. At all."

"He's the oddball," Bret pointed out to her. "Everybody in the family's got my appetite, except Bart. I still think he was abandoned in the woods as a young 'en and Pappy just took him in."

"Very funny, big brother," I replied. "You have any more questions for Miss O'Rourke?"

"Nope. I'm done. Why don't you take Ally home and come back to the hotel? I think we should be there for Eamon."

I smiled big time at his suggestion. I thought that was a capital idea, and I told him so. It was Bret's turn; I let him pay for lunch. The rain had stopped, at least temporarily, and I grabbed my cane with one hand and Ally with the other and led her out of the cantina. I wanted to spend time with her, but it was passed five o'clock and I had to agree with Bret – we should be at the hotel room to see Eamon as soon as he got done with Everton. A lot was riding on his ability to convince Morgan that he was willing to commit murder to escape a crushing debt.

I walked Ally home and we were silent for the most part. When we were almost to Nora's house she asked, "Is this going to work? Can you and Bret get Eamon out of his own mess?"

"We're tryin', Ally. If everything goes the way we expect it to, maybe. A lot depends on this next meetin'."

"I'm sorry, Bart. I know I got you two into this, and I wish I hadn't. Whatever happens, I know you've tried. And so does Nora. Thank you."

She stared intently at me with those stunning green eyes, and there were tears standing in them. I grasped her face gently in my hands and kissed her softly, tenderly, soothingly. She kissed me back the same way, and then I dropped my cane and wrapped her in my arms. She smelled like honey and tasted like wine, and while we stood there I forgot everything but how good she felt, right where she was in my embrace. It had been a long time since I'd held a woman like this; so vibrant, so alive, so close to everything I wanted. I was afraid to breathe, afraid that I would break this beguilement, bewilderment, whatever it was, and find that it was all a dream. I opened my eyes and she was still there, still in my grasp, burrowing her way ever closer through the barricades I had built up around my heart.

Without warning the front door opened, and Nora was there. We broke apart and my arms felt empty, incomplete, disconsolate without her in them. She seemed to have cast a spell, and I'd fallen under it. "We'll talk in the morning," I promised her, picking up my cane and walking away. It wasn't the first time I'd walked away from a woman, but I was beginning to wonder if it might be the last.


	16. Hook, Line, and Sinker

Chapter 15 – Hook, Line, and Sinker

I hurried back to our rooms at the hotel, my emotions a confused mess. Ally was the only thing on my mind, although I knew what lay in front of me and Bret because of our determination to help Eamon Garrity. I tried to get her out of my head and so far it wasn't working real well. Why was Ally so different?

It was a question I needed to reflect on, and ponder, and right now I didn't have the time or the wherewithal for that, so I moved it to the back of the list of things I had to deal with. My feelings would have to wait. They usually did anyway.

When I got back to Suite 316 Bret was calmly sitting on the settee, reading that day's newspaper and smoking a cigar. Quite unlike his usual pacing in circles. "Well, that didn't take long," was his only comment.

"You have no idea," I mumbled, and he looked up at me but said nothing. I took my place on the settee opposite him. "What was the telegram that Fordham delivered?" I asked him, no mumbling involved.

"Oh, just a reply to a wire I sent off earlier."

"About Nora Garrity?" He didn't answer me. "Did you know her in Dodge City? She wasn't there by the time I got there."

"I was dead by the time you got there, son."

"That's because you couldn't bother to send for me."

"Oh really?" Bret asked. "And what would I have said?"

"Help. That's all you needed to say. I'd have been there as fast as I could."

His tone was much quieter. "I know you would. I didn't want to involve you. Get you hurt or killed."

I wasn't gonna back down on this one. I sent for him when I needed help. Why couldn't he do the same? "That's not what I asked. Did you see Nora in Dodge City?"

"Yes."

I wasn't prepared for a one word, straightforward answer. "When?"

"When I first got there. Right after Taylor Clennon was killed."

"Where?" As long as he was answerin' questions I wasn't gonna stop askin' 'em. At any minute he could decide he'd answered enough and that would be the end of it.

"At the train station. When I got off the train in Dodge, she was gettin' on the outbound train. The one that ran to Kansas City. Just like Ally told us this afternoon."

"Are you sure it was her?"

"Positive. Nobody else looks like that, Bart. I asked who she was – she was one of the most beautiful women I'd ever seen in my life. Saloon girl, the conductor said. Worked at Jake's until she didn't anymore. A saloon girl, Bart. That exquisite creature. Johnson was chargin' her to protect her brother. Once Taylor Clennon was killed she packed up an left town, figured she couldn't fight it no more. I wired Mary Clennon and asked her if she knew the name Nora Garrity. She filled me in; I remembered the rest. So she's got a past she doesn't want Ally to know about."

"I can't blame her, Bret, we've all got somethin' we're not proud of."

"That's not all. Word is she was Rob Hinkel's girlfriend when she left town."

I shrugged. "That doesn't mean anything. He was carryin' a torch for Sally Bodeen until the day he died. If it was a serious involvement, wouldn't Hinkel have gotten Orin to back off Nora?"

"You tell me," Bret responded. "You knew Johnson better than anybody. Would he have given Hinkel's girl a break?"

I had to think about that one for a minute, before I finally shook my head. "No, I don't think so. Orin Johnson never gave anybody a break. I can't see him makin' any exceptions, even for Hinkel. I've never known any man as money hungry as Orin Johnson."

Bret put his paper down and relit the cigar he'd been smoking. "You never had much to say about Johnson. Even on the train out to Reno. Why is that?"

Maybe it was my turn to pace the room; maybe I just felt the need to stand up and stretch my legs. "He bothered me, Bret. I don't think I've ever encountered anybody as close to pure evil as that man. I can't think of one redeemin' feature he possessed. Not one. I've never been so relieved to see anybody die in my whole life. There's not much left to say after that."

He nodded and took a long draw on his cigar. "Then Hinkel did one thing right before he died when he shot Johnson in the back."

"Much as I hate to say killin' anybody was the right thing, I have to agree with ya on that. Say, you didn't happen to ask Mary about her and Chris Hillis, did ya?"

"No, didn't think about it at the time. One a these days we gotta go see Mary an Matt."

"I'd like that," I told him. I walked around the room for a minute, before coming back to stand in the middle of the sitting area. "How do ya think Eamon's doin' with Morgan?" I asked, pulling out my watch to look at the time.

"Guess we'll know soon enough."

I thought about sitting back down but just couldn't make myself. So I wandered around the room, amused by the fact that it was me doing the pacing and Bret doing the sitting. Something had me on edge, and I didn't know what it was. It was a long time later before I figured it out.

Almost three hours after that there was a knock at our door. Bret and I glanced at each other as he got up to answer the knock, not exactly certain of what we were going to find. Three hours was an awfully long meeting just to learn the name of the man you were being blackmailed into killing.

Bret opened the door with his gun drawn, just to be safe. I can't tell you how many times one or the other of us has forgotten to do that and paid the price for it. Eamon was standing there, looking scared, relieved, desperate, and none the worse for wear. It took him just a minute to gather himself, and then he walked – rather, staggered – into the room.

"You alright?" Bret asked him.

"I – yeah," Eamon replied, looking for all the world like a man who was about to die of fright. He managed to get to the spot on the settee where Bret had been sitting and literally collapsed onto it. "You wouldn't . . . you wouldn't . . . whiskey?"

I shook my head. "Nope. Don't drink, don't keep the stuff around. Was it that bad?"

"Worse," he finally got out. "He was late; Big Ed and Nate wouldn't let me leave. I've been sitting there all this time."

"Huh," Bret remarked. "A crime lord and rude. Who woulda thought?"

I looked up sharply. "Bret," was all I said, and he smothered a laugh. I shifted my gaze back to Eamon. "Did he show up at all?"

"Finally," came his answer. "And you were right. He wants me to kill Fordham."

"Is that all?"

"That's enough." Eamon looked dismayed. "Now what do I do?"

"Did he give you a deadline?" Bret asked.

"One week," came the Irishman's reply.

"And what about the written receipt?"

"He'll think about it."

"Eamon – " Bret started. I'd gotten off the settee and walked over to my brother. I put my hand on his arm to stop him.

"Leave the kid alone, Brother Bret. He's had enough for one night."

Bret stared at me for a minute and then shook his head. "I guess it doesn't really matter. He'll be in jail for a nice long time when this is all over, anyway."

"Yes, he will," I answered. Then I turned back to Eamon. "Did you tell him you'd do it?"

Garrity looked up at both of us. "I did. I stalled and balked and finally told him I'd do what he wanted."

"Do you think he bought it?"

He clasped his hands together and hung his head. When he answered it was hard to hear him. "I sure hope so."

I got him to his feet and headed out the door. "Go on home, Eamon. Get some sleep. Meet us at Nora's tomorrow at two o'clock. And try to stay outta sight until then."

Bret closed the door behind him and then looked at me. "We need a plan, Brother Bart. We need a plan."

I started to say something and then stopped. How could I tell Bret what I was feeling? Especially since I didn't quite understand it myself. Something wasn't right, and I couldn't put my finger on it. So I'd keep my mouth shut until I had it figured out. And hope that happened fast.


	17. Something in the Way She Moves

Chapter 16 – Something in the Way She Moves

Bart, oh Bart. Son, why is it that you plunge head first into things where angels would fear to tread? I saw the look in your eyes when I walked into that cantina with Ally on my arm. If I'd been anyone else – well, I don't know what you might have done. But it was me, and you covered as quickly as you could, and almost smiled when you asked _'Something goin' on that I should know about?'_ Of course there was, but it certainly wasn't what you, for just a moment, thought.

Ailish O'Rourke appears to be the innocent victim in all this. Nora Garrity, I'm still not sure about. And her brother Eamon – for all his posturing and bleating, there's something there that I just don't trust. You had your suspicions, too, hard as you tried to fight them. You're my brother; I know you well enough to know when somethin's eatin' away at you. Did you sense what I did, that Eamon wasn't as straight an arrow as he made everybody think? Or were you lookin' at him with Ally's eyes, and saw only the poor, misguided lad that had been led astray by the big bad crime lord?

What am I to do with you? I love you, son, but you've got to think with your head and not your heart. One of these days I might not be there to pull you out of the muck and mire, and what will you do then?

Hmmm, that gives me pause. Maybe there's hope for you after all. I'm thinkin' about Dodge City, that very place where I first spied Nora Garrity, and you seemed to do all right there on your own. As a matter of fact, you acquitted yourself quite well. What sparked that calm, rational, dispassionate side of you? Yeah, I knew what was goin' on – Doc tried to keep me informed, and I heard most of what he was tellin' me. You were smart, patient, steady. Nothin' got in your way – you focused on the end game and went after it like a starvin' dog with a bone. What kept you so sharp?

I guess that's a question I don't have an answer for right now. Or maybe I do. There was no woman involved. No Caroline, no Millie, no Kimemela, no Domino. No Ally O'Rourke. The closest anybody came to that was Sally Bodeen, and while I know you felt somethin' for Sally, it was more pity than anything else. Same for Mary Clennon. When your heart gets involved, your head is inclined to shut down. That's what has me so worried this time.

Oh, he's there and thinkin'. I kid about neither one of us bein' a genius, but my brother is plenty smart. It's just that, well, he tends to set the smart aside to a certain extent. There is some indication that it hasn't happened this time – he's been fidgety, like Cousin Beau, and worried enough to pace, like me. There's somethin' goin' on in his head; it doesn't seem to have gone to sleep completely. I guess I'm just gonna have to give him the benefit of the doubt this time and see what happens.

That's all I got for now. I hope it's enough to keep us both alive.


	18. Last One Back

Chapter 17 – Last One Back

I got up the next morning after sleeping for about three or four hours. No matter which way I turned it over in my head – whatever angle I looked at it from – things just didn't make sense. There was something missing and I'll be darned if I knew what it was. I had been certain last night that I could figure it out before I talked to Bret about it, but even my feeble brain had finally thrown in the towel and admitted defeat. So I was tickled when I got up, cleaned, shaved, and got dressed, to find that for once I was awake and up before big brother. Even he was startled when he walked out into the sitting room and found me much the same way I'd found him last night – smoking a cigar and reading the paper.

"Didn't sleep?" he asked as he yawned and walked over to the settee.

"I slept," I answered. He didn't ask how much I'd slept and I didn't volunteer. "Can we talk about this whole Nora – Eamon situation?"

He chuckled just a little. "Glad to hear I'm not the only one with suspicions."

"Well," I started out, "I'm not sure I'd – maybe I would but – okay, suspicions. Questions. Doubts. I don't care what you call 'em."

"Can we eat first? You know I think better on a full stomach."

For once I was almost as hungry as he was. "Don't see why not."

Bret went to his bedroom to put his boots on – sorry, I failed to mention that – and when he came back I was more than ready to go. It wasn't raining outside anymore, and I was happy to see that. Maybe we could actually try that ride today, before Noble filed for divorce. Going down the steps, Bret finally noticed. "Hey, no cane this mornin'."

"Nope. Doesn't mean it's healed, but at least I can walk down stairs without it."

"A visit to the livery on our agenda?"

"It's early enough. Think we can get a ride in before two o'clock?"

He pulled out his watch and looked at it. It wasn't yet nine. "I think that might be in our future."

I smiled and so did big brother. "Don't let me get away from breakfast without an apple."

I felt better about everything. Even if we didn't have things worked out yet, we were gonna talk about it. There's just sometimes you gotta talk to your Pappy.

After we filled our bellies we scooted on down to the livery. Yes, I remembered the apple, and Noble was the happiest boy on the block. We got our gear in place and finally got out into the sunshine, both horses blinking like they'd never seen outside before. I got up on the old man alright, but the leg was just a bit touchy. Not enough to stop me, of course, and actually better than I expected it to be.

We rode west, back out towards the lake I'd wanted to show Ally, and stopped when we got to the fence she and I had come across. "Remind you of anything?" I asked Bret, and he nodded solemnly.

"Yeah, may he rest in hell," my brother answered, and I was startled by the amount of venom in his voice. I thought I was the one with the long memory, but it appeared to be a family affliction.

"Come on, let's see how far this goes," I remarked, and led the way. On down the fence line we rode, following it for a considerable distance before the railing made a left turn.

"That's quite a spread," Bret commented, and I had to agree with him. "Why would a man need that much land?"

"Greedy?" Was the only thing I could think of. "Do you suppose he really believes Arizona is gonna be a state soon?"

"Maybe. I got a feelin' it's still a ways off."

I nodded, agreeing with him. "Let's head on over to that stand of Acacia trees. Looks like a good place to sit and smoke a while."

"And talk?"

"That too."

So we did. It didn't take us long to figure out that there was something off about this whole thing, but neither one of us could quite put our finger on it. "Let's take this puzzle apart and see if it fits back together," Bret suggested.

"If it does, then we're both crazy."

He burst out laughing, as if that was something he'd never heard before. "Too late for that, son. I know we're crazy." He lit a cigar, passed it over to me and lit one for himself. "What about Ally – you got any reason to doubt her story?"

I shook my head. "I wondered, at first. But everything she's told me has been consistent and straightforward. I don't have any reason to doubt her." That look on his face told me he knew how I felt about her. I just don't think he knew how much I felt that way about her.

"Tell me that feelin's comin' from your gut and not your heart."

"It is."

"If it's any comfort, I feel the same way. I don't think there's anything goin' on there that we don't know about. And Nora?"

I had to be honest. "The only thing that's given me pause about Nora is what you told me about her an Dodge City. That, and her brother. And I'm much more likely to pay attention to her brother. There's somethin' about Eamon that's not quite . . . "

"Right?" Bret finished for me.

"Yeah," I had to agree. "But I'll be danged if I can figure out what it is."

"He's not as innocent as he pretends to be."

"That's the same feelin' I got," was my comeback. "But it's more than just that. I don't think we've heard the whole story. He's left somethin' out along the way. And I don't think either one of the girls know what it is."

"Bart."

"Yes, Pappy?"

"About Ally . . . "

I waited for him to say something more, but nothing came. Finally I asked, "What about Ally?"

"Never mind," Bret answered, throwing the rest of his unsmoked cigar away. "Let's go, or we won't make it back in time. Are we agreed that we'll keep an eye on Eamon, just in case we're right?"

"I think we should. Especially since we both feel the same way."

"Last one back to town has to buy supper," my brother declared, already three steps ahead of me. He never does that unless he already has an advantage. He'd already taken off by the time I swung up in the saddle, but that scrappy gelding of mine knew when he was in danger of being outrun. Just like lightening he made up the distance between him and the stallion and we ran neck and neck all the way back to town. Noble got half-a-step ahead as we reached Main Street and I laughed at Bret's challenge backfiring on him.


	19. Visage in the Moonlight

Chapter 18 – Visage in the Moonlight

We'd been at Nora's house about twenty minutes before Eamon showed up. "Sorry for being late," he apologized. "I was doing some work for Mr. Fitzgerald at the bank, since he was closed down yesterday."

Ally and I looked up; she smiled and I shrugged. "Not a problem, Eamon. Your sister and Bret are out in the yard with the chickens. You might wanna let 'em know you're here."

"Sure," he answered, and headed out the back door. I turned my attention back to what Ally and I were talking about.

"So tell me some more about Eamon." We'd been speaking about the man that had just breezed in one door and out the other. If Bret and I hadn't been able to figure out what was going on with Nora's brother based on what little we knew about him, maybe getting some further insight from Ally would prove valuable.

"Do we have to talk about Eamon? Tell me about your day."

Before I could get started, Eamon returned to the house, followed shortly by Nora and my brother. Bret had a slight smile on his face; Nora looked happier than I'd seen her in a while. "Coffee for everyone?"

Ally and I both nodded; I took one of her hands in mine and squeezed. "Later, I'll tell you later," and it was her turn to smile. Bret brought the cups into the front room; Nora followed with the coffee pot. As she poured coffee for each of us I asked, "Say, I thought you all would be drinkin' tea. Why the coffee?"

Nora smiled just a bit again. "That's easy for us. Our mother and father drank coffee after they came to America. So we did, too."

"And what about you, lass?" I asked Ailish.

That sweet expression again. "Nora's fault. She started me on it, and I never went back to tea."

Eamon looked and sounded impatient. "Can we quit talking about coffee and talk about something more useful?"

"You mean like a plan?" Bret asked, sneaking a glance and a smile at Nora rather than her brother. "Well, Eamon, we don't have one."

"Not yet," I clarified. "We don't have one yet."

"So I'm just supposed to kill the sheriff and get hung for it?" Now he sounded petulant. _'I want a way out of this and I want it right now.'_

"That's not what we said," Bret answered, expressing a little irritation himself. "We don't have a plan yet."

"What do I do?" Eamon wailed, sounding like a three-year-old that hadn't gotten his way.

"For now – nothin'. You've got almost a week to get your job done. We have breakfast with Morgan tomorrow mornin'. We'll see what happens then. We'll come up with somethin' after that."

"And what if you don't?" This time Garrity whined.

Ally, bless her heart, reached over and patted his hand. "Act like the man you are instead of the bratty child you sound like," she told him. "You have to trust Bart and Bret – they're trying to help you." He shook her hand away and I could see it angered her. I could tell her patience with him was running thin.

"How do I know that?" he whined once more.

"Stop it, Eamon Garrity, stop it right now. Be glad it's your sister in your corner, fighting for you. Cause if it was up to me, when I threw ya out in the street, that's the last you woulda heard from me. I got these men to try and help dig you outta your own mess. And instead a bein' grateful ya whine like a little child. Act yer age, for the lova God." Ally had worked herself into such a lather that her accent returned full force. She got up from her seat next to me and stormed back towards her bedroom, where the whole house rattled when she slammed her door.

We all sat there for a moment, startled and surprised by the outburst, before anyone talked. Nora shifted her gaze to me. "Is that the way she feels?"

Reluctantly I nodded. "She did this for you, Nora, because Eamon is your brother, and you believe in him."

Eamon straightened his shoulders and cleared his throat. When he spoke, he sounded like a different man. No more whining or complaining, he told me and Bret, "I'll do whatever you want. I'll be at the boarding house when you need me." He stood, picked up his hat, bent down to kiss his sister on the cheek, and left. The front door closed softly behind him.

Ally came running back out of her room. "Is he gone? I ran him off, didn't I? Oh Nora, I'm so sorry."

I started to get up and go to her and Bret stopped me. In a moment I saw why. Nora rushed over to where her friend stood and they embraced, and Ally's tears finally started. "No, honey, don't cry. What you told him was the truth. I just didn't want to see it before." She helped Ally sit down in a chair and then turned to us. "Bret, Bart, I'm sorry that you got pulled into this. I wouldn't blame either one of you if you wanted out of this web of deceit that my brother has woven for himself."

Bret stood then and went to Nora's side. From the closeness between them, it appeared that their relationship had gone further than I thought. "We won't walk away, Nora. Men like Morgan Everton have to be stopped. And if we can stop him, we will." Bret grasped Nora's hand and led her into the kitchen. I went to Ally, finally, and took her in my arms and let her sob until she was all cried out. Then I pulled out my handkerchief and wiped what was left of her tears.

"Bart – "

"Shhh," I told her. "It'll all work itself out."

"I hope so," she murmured into my coat. "I hope so."

XXXXXXXX

The original plan was to take the ladies to dinner at the hotel, but no one much felt like eating, so Bret and I stopped at the cantina for a bite. I didn't really want food either, but I felt the need to play poker and knew I'd regret it later if I didn't eat something. We didn't talk much while we ate, and I wondered if Bret's mind was as occupied with thoughts of Nora as mine was with Ally. I needed a clear head for breakfast with Morgan Everton and poker was the only way I knew to sweep all the cobwebs out.

I was still curious about Morgan's 'purchase' of Eamon's debt from the Lucky Lady, so that's where Bret and I headed. We hoped between the two of us that one or the other could get some kind of a lead on the answer. I found a poker game in back and sat in for a while, but no one there seemed to know anything about so-called 'house debts.' I'd been there maybe two hours when something at one of the Faro tables caught my eye – it was Nate Turner, and he was working as the banker and dealing. That was unusual – Bret told me that Nate and Big Ed were nothing more than muscle, or hired guns, for Orin Johnson. Had Nate learned a new skill?

Curious, I took my leave from the poker game and walked the floor. On the other side of the saloon I finally spotted Big Ed, standing towards the back of several men crowded around the roulette wheel. Ed was definitely looking for something or someone. Maybe another poor soul that had gotten sucked into losing everything he had – or didn't have. That's why they called it gambling.

This was certainly an interesting development. I went looking for Bret; I wanted to make sure that neither of Morgan's two 'employees' had done the same work in Dodge City. I couldn't find him.

Now I was worried. It wasn't like Bret to leave without at least letting me know he was going. I even walked outside to see if he was somewhere smoking; no such luck. Back inside I finally located him at one of the other Faro tables, having an intense conversation with a rather pretty saloon girl. If I remembered right, her name was Jeanette. I'd met her the first night we were in here, searching for Garrity. It appeared to be business - there was none of the Maverick flirting or charm on display. I yawned and waited until I caught his eye, then let him know I was leaving. He nodded his assent and I left, taking the short walk back to the hotel. It had been a long, arduous day, and it was difficult at best to climb the stairs.

I went straight to my room, removing my hat, coat, vest, and gun belt before I heard a noise in the sitting room. I pulled my Colt and cracked the bedroom door just enough to see. I hadn't turned on any lights when I entered the suite and it was fairly dim out there, but as my eyes adjusted to the dark I saw a figure poking around. Within a minute or so I could see a whole lot better, and learned the identity of our visitor. It was a familiar form, but I couldn't for the life of me figure out what he was doing there. When just a sliver of moonlight caught his face, I knew I was right. It was Eamon Garrity.


	20. We Can Work it Out

Chapter 19 – We Can Work it Out

I must have stood there in the dark, with the door open just enough for a gun barrel to fit through it, for a good five minutes. Eamon rustled through the newspapers lying on the settee, then took half a dozen steps and disappeared into Bret's room. I know my brother well enough to know there was nothing of any value in there, besides his clothes, so I wasn't much worried about Eamon taking anything. The only question I had was relatively straightforward – what was the Irishman doing here and what was he looking for?

I realized his next stop was gonna be my room, so I backed away from the door, grabbed the clothes I'd laid across the bed, and slipped into the closet. In just a few seconds I heard his footsteps cross the sitting room and held my breath while he slowly opened the door to my room. The sound of him going through my belongings in the dresser was unmistakable, as were the approaching footsteps as he came towards the closet. I expected the door to be yanked open at any moment and I pointed my gun at it, but something stopped him. What, I don't know. Then the vibration of receding footsteps and my door closing.

I waited another few minutes until I was certain he'd left our suite, and finally came back out into my bedroom. Everything outside was dead quiet until I heard the front door open again and the sound of my brother in the sitting room. I came out from behind the closed door and he seemed startled to see me still up and walking around. "Thought you came back to the room to get some sleep."

"I did," I answered him, "but I was interrupted before I could lie down."

"Interrupted? As in unwelcome visitors?"

I shook my head. "Not visitors – visitor. Just one."

"And who might that be?" Bret asked curiously.

"Our friend Garrity."

"I assume you don't mean Nora," he shot back.

"Nope, that weasily little brother of hers."

"What did Eamon want?"

I sort of chuckled. "I don't know. He broke in, looked through everything in here, went into your room and rooted around, came back and went into my room, went through my drawers, heard somethin' he didn't like and snuck out."

"And where were you while all this was goin' on?" Bret asked, sounding highly amused and rather perturbed at the same time.

"In the closet."

"In the closet?"

"Yep, in the closet. I didn't think it'd be real wise to shoot him, and that was my other choice."

"No, you're probably right. Any idea what he wanted?"

"Nope."

"Talk in the mornin'?"

"Sure. G'night."

"G'night."

I yawned again, I was too tired to worry about it, or even try to figure it out. As far as I could tell he hadn't taken anything, and we had breakfast in the morning with Everton. I'd rather be awake for that meeting. So I finally got to finish my undressing and I went to bed. The gun went with me.

XXXXXXXX

We met Morgan at the Cattlemen's Club, in his private dining room. They had breakfast for all the businessmen on Saturdays and Sundays, and it was a lavish spread, indeed. Bret showed admirable restraint, only ordering bacon and a steak to go with his eggs, potatoes and coffee. I was more than happy with flapjacks and plenty of coffee, while Everton ordered an egg dish he called an omelette. It looked impressive, and if I ever get another chance, I'll try one.

Marie was there serving us, of course, and I must say she was very efficient. And very sweet, especially when she smiled. "Well, Bart, I was just wondering how your research was coming."

"Not bad, Morgan. Things appear to be looking real good for establishing our base of operations in Tucson. I'm waiting for another wire from a friend of mine in St. Louis, and if it says what I think it will you'll have your answer sooner rather than later."

"You'll want an office here in town, won't you? There's a building two doors down from my place that's available. I don't know how big an operation you'll want to run, but it's a decent size."

"Any chance we could get in to see it?" I asked.

"You should be able to. Meet me at my office tomorrow at one o'clock and I'll make sure the man that owns it is there to let you in."

"Sounds good. Thanks, Morgan."

He had another question or two about Johnson's operation in Dodge, but all in all it was a pleasant breakfast, as meals with murderous crime lords go. When breakfast was over, we parted with the agreement to meet the following day at one, and Bret and I were off to the livery to get the horses saddled. Ally and Nora were both eager to go riding with us; actual riding as opposed to buggy riding, and we were both looking forward to it.

Bret learned yesterday that Nora had horses and both ladies could ride, so we'd arranged an outing for today. That all happened after Ally's outburst, when it was decided that supper out was best skipped. Due to the early onset of the monsoons, the start of Ally's' job had been pushed back for a week, so she had unexpected free time. They brought food for later, and were all ready to go when we came by to get them. Nora wore pants, Ally a riding skirt, and I must say that both women were spectacular looking.

We rode south of town, towards Mexico. It had turned out to be a beautiful day, and when we came to a small grove of Acacia trees Bret and Nora elected to stay for a while. Ally and I rode on, agreeing to return to the Acacia's by four o'clock, further south to a little stream that eventually ran into the Suaharita River. We found a shady spot and laid a blanket, and Ally brought out the bottle of wine she'd packed, along with the glasses, and proceeded to pour us both a drink. She leaned back against a tree and I lay with my head in her lap, and we did nothing but drink wine and tell each other stories. Since she'd already heard about most of my family members on our stage coach travel, I told her some of the escapades that Bret and I had encountered along the road.

She took great interest in the story about Lakota Pass, especially the hallucinations that I'd had due to my exposure to the Devils Breath. And she was actually fascinated by Kimimela and her joy at living on land that now belonged legally to her and her tribe. "She sounds like a very wise woman, Bart."

"She was, Ally. Wise and beautiful. And very, very humble. One of the most genuine people I've ever met. I wonder how she and the mountain have fared since we left."

"You have a great affection for people, don't you?" she asked me, all the time running her fingers through my hair.

"Most of 'em," I told her. "Then you run across the Morgan Everton's of the world, and ya just have to do somethin' about 'em."

"What would you do if you weren't a gambler and a tumbleweed?"

I chuckled at her description. "A tumbleweed? Really? I prefer to think of myself as a free spirit."

"Alright, free spirit. What would you do if you weren't a gambler?"

"Oh, I don't know. A cattle rancher, I guess. That's what I know best." I gazed up at her, into those perfect, bottomless green eyes, and I couldn't help it. I pulled her head down to mine and kissed her, just like I had on Nora's front porch, and she kissed me back the same way. I wanted to do more. I wanted to hold her tight and feel her breathe. She was everything I wanted in a woman. I wanted to kiss her face, her lips, her eyes, and murmur into her hair, "I love you, Ally O'Rourke."

I wanted to hear her say, "I love you, Bartley." And I wouldn't mind at all that she'd said it that way. I could imagine her whispering, "What are we going to do now?" and all I could do was answer back.

"I don't know, honey, but we'll figure somethin' out. We'll figure somethin' out." But I said none of that, and I did none of it, either. None of it past the first kiss, and we sat that way, with my head in her lap, until almost four o'clock.

We got up at last, and she put the wine away while I folded the blanket. I helped her up on her horse and mounted Noble, and we headed back towards the spot where we'd left Bret and Nora. I'd wanted to tell her my feelings but I hadn't said those words in a very long time, and somehow it didn't feel right to say them just yet.

Bret and Nora were in almost the same spot as when we left, and when we got there we joined them on the blanket for a makeshift picnic. I know I ate something, but I don't remember exactly what. All I could think about was Ally and what I'd wanted to say to her. In my mind she'd asked a good question – "What are we gonna do now?" I had no answer for that. I couldn't imagine doing anything with my life besides playing poker – but I knew that I loved this woman, this warm Irish lass with the emerald green eyes, and what I'd almost told her was the truth – I'd figure something out.


	21. The Unholy Trinity

Chapter 20 – The Unholy Trinity

"So why were you lookin' for me in the Lucky Lady? Just to let me know you were comin' back here?" We were sitting in our hotel suite, after a long day. It had taken us close to twenty-four hours to have this conversation, but eventually we'd gotten round to it.

"I saw Nate Turner dealin' Faro and Big Ed hangin' out at the roulette wheel." First things first.

"Turner dealin' . . . really. He's learned a new trick."

Just as I'd thought. "So that wasn't a regular occurrence in Dodge?"

Bret shook his head. "Nope. Maybe Nate's smarter than I gave him credit for."

"I doubt that. You suppose Ed was lookin' for new suckers to blackmail?" That seemed the most logical thing to me, and it sounded like big brother agreed with me.

"Probably. Somethin' else on your mind?"

"Yeah," I told him. "I saw you havin' a serious conversation with Jeanette at the Lady. Anything I should know about?"

"For sure. Jeanette worked at the Silver Star in Kansas City. She says Eamon used to hang out there when Nora was workin' across town at The Backwater. The first time he showed up here she recognized him. Seems he got himself in some trouble in Kansas City, too, and that's part of the reason the Garrity's left Kansas altogether. Our 'innocent boy' ain't so innocent after all."

"I think you were right. Poor Ally's the one that's been kept in the dark in all this."

"Now, now, Brother Bart, while that may be true, I can't exactly blame Nora for not spreadin' around what a pain her baby brother is. Not everybody's relatives turn out as good as you."

I started laughing then and I couldn't stop. It was even funnier if you could see Bret's face – he was totally serious! I finally got the giggles under control and told him, "I appreciate the sentiment, Brother Bret, but about half the country would disagree with ya!"

"Only half?" he asked, and I howled all over again.

"So what . . . what does that tell ya?" I managed to choke out.

"That this ain't the first time Eamon's been in trouble. But it's probably the first time he's been in trouble this big."

"And the first time Ally's known about it."

"Got to have been a burden on Nora all this time – knowin' what kind of a brother she had and still tryin' to get him outta trouble."

"So, where does that leave us? You know if we manage the impossible, he's probably gonna turn around and do it all again." I knew how Bret was gonna answer that, but I wanted it all out in the open. Nothing left unsaid.

Bret sighed. "I know. But we gave Ally our word. And I truly think Nora's just about done with her brother. Remember, she's the one that threw him out this time."

"Okay," I answered. "So if we can get rid of Everton – "

"We'll be doin' somethin' right, even if Eamon can't keep his hands clean."

"And the ladies can't blame us for whatever happens after that."

I stuck out my hand, and Bret and I shook on it. If we could dispose of Morgan Everton and get Eamon Garrity out of the mess he'd gotten himself into, he was on his own from now on.

XXXXXXXX

Needless to say, I didn't sleep that night. This was the first room I'd had in quite a while that didn't have a window view of the street, so there was nowhere for me to sit and ruminate on my life and what I wanted from it. In desperation I got dressed and went outside – yes, really outside, somewhere around three o'clock in the morning. I was surprised that the streets were bright enough to smoke a cigar without setting myself on fire, mostly due to lights from all the saloons. I wasn't ready to go back inside when I was finished, and poker, for once, had no appeal for me. It was the first time in a long while I felt that way.

I was emotionally caught between a rock and a hard place, and I'd put myself there. Why do I keep trying to get involved with women that want a man willing to settle down in one spot and stay there? Maybe that's all there is out there? Where's the female equivalent of Bart Maverick? Is she out there looking for me, asking the same questions? Or is there no such animal?

One thing was certain. I was head-over-heels in love with Ailish O'Rourke and I didn't have the faintest idea of what to do about it. I hadn't told Bret. Hell, I hadn't even told her. Maybe the best thing to do was keep my mouth shut until I had it figured out. Of course, knowing myself as well as I do, I could be sittin' on the porch rocking when that happened.

Alright, it was time to be honest, at least with myself. I loved poker. I loved being what Ailish called 'a tumbleweed.' I didn't want to change my life. But the more time that passed, the more I realized that there was somethin' else that I wanted, almost as much. I wanted a home. A wife. Kids. A whole passel of kids. Had I always felt this way and I was just now gettin' around to admitting it? If that was true, how long was it gonna be before I was willing to stay in one place to have all of those? And how much was I willing to give up to get it? Maybe, when you came right down to it, that was the real reason I was up at this time of night, or morning, walking towards the livery because I couldn't sleep and I didn't know what else to do.

A drunken cowboy – is there any other kind? – stumbled out of Long John's making all sort of noise, and that's what caused me to stop for just a minute as I crossed an alley. I looked down the alley to make sure there was nobody lurking there – I've run across my fair share of men who didn't wanna do anything to earn money of their own – the only thing they wanted to do was take somebody else's. And that's when I saw them. Eamon Garrity, Nate Turner and Morgan Everton. Eamon and Nate were arguing, quietly, with Morgan saying something every once in a while.

It gave me pause, to say the least, but I scampered across the alley before I could be spotted. Garrity did not look like the 'boy' that seemed to be terrified of Everton. Nor was he in the least afraid of Nate Turner. I wish they'd been louder; I needed to hear what the 'discussion' was about. It only lasted another minute or two and then they disbursed, with Nate headed one way down the alley and the other two in the opposite direction. Together.

I stood still right where I was, in the middle of the sidewalk on the way to the livery. What had I just witnessed? I needed to get back to the hotel and tell Bret what I'd seen, so I turned around in a hurry and almost fell over Big Ed, who was standing right behind me with his gun drawn.


	22. New Friends

Chapter 21 – New Friends

"Well," I stuttered. "What a surprise. What are you doin' out here at this time of the mornin', Ed?"

I knew that Dumbrowski hated being called 'Big Ed,' much as I disliked 'Bartley.' I was willing to do anything to convince him I had seen nothing, including avoiding the dreaded nickname.

"What are you doin' up, tin horn?"

"Just takin' a walk," I replied, trying to sound as casual as I could.

"Lookin' down dark alleys?" he asked.

"Lookin' down . . . oh, that. Got in the habit of checkin' to make sure nobody's gonna whack me over the head. Doesn't take much, ya know. Just a casual glance."

"Is that so?"

"Yep. What are you doin' out here?"

"Watchin' the bosses back." Ed was not picking up on my attempt to be nonchalant about things. He sounded terribly serious.

"Who, Morgan? Is he here? Couldn't he sleep either?"

Ed hesitated, like he wanted to believe me, that I hadn't seen Everton. It would be easier in the long run if he did. "You didn't see the boss?"

"Are you kidding? I can't see anything in the dark. Too many years sittin' in brightly lit saloons. Sorry I missed him."

I could literally see the wheels turning in his head. Ed had the right last name, Dumbrowksi, and I was almost home free. "Where you headed?" he asked me.

"I was goin' to the livery. Then I reached for a cigar and realized I'd left 'em back in the room. So I was headed back to the hotel."

"Let's see yer pocket," he ordered, and motioned with the gun. I pulled the lapel of my coat open and lo and behold – the inside pocket was empty. "Alright," Ed growled, "get on where yer goin'."

I walked in a hurry, back towards the hotel, and had barely gotten past him when I heard him say, "You better not be lyin' to me, Maverick."

"I'm not," I replied, and forced myself to walk slowly back down the sidewalk. Once I got inside the hotel I practically ran up the stairs, as fast as my leg could manage, and went bursting into our suite. "Bret, Bret, Bret," I started calling as soon as I got the outside door closed. By the time I got his bedroom door open, I could hear stirring in the bed.

"What?" he practically growled at me, in much the same tone that Ed had used. I don't imagine that he was real happy to be woken up some time after three o'clock in the morning, but I expected that all to change once I told him what I'd witnessed. So I went through the whole incident, including Big Ed's reactions to my 'story'. "Cigars?" Bret asked. "You told him you were comin' back for cigars?"

"Yep," I said to him, and flipped the lapel open once again. This time the inside pocket held all the cigars that had been in there before I palmed them to keep them out of Big Ed's sight.

"Sneaky little . . . "

I stopped him before he could call me an inappropriate name. "Don't call me sneaky," I reminded him. "You're the one that taught me the trick." And he had. When I was fourteen, to keep Pappy from wailing on me should I ever get caught with smokes I wasn't supposed to have.

He'd gotten out of bed while I was telling him what I'd seen and was now standing next to me. He reached out and grabbed me by the shoulder. "I'm sure glad you were a good student," and he squeezed. I breathed a sigh of relief; he was right. Ed Dumbrowksi could have done a lot of damage if he hadn't believed me.

"Whatta you think it means?" I asked big brother.

"You sure he was arguing with Nate and not Morgan?"

I nodded vigorously. "I'm sure."

"Could mean a lot. Could mean nothin'. Not sure which it is."

"Any way we can find out besides wait and watch?" I asked again.

Bret looked perplexed. "None that I can think of. When we go to see the office tomorrow – "

"Yeah?"

"I think it's time I play George Henry again. You meet with Morgan alone, I'll guard your back. Maybe you can get somethin' out of him when I'm not there."

"And if not – "

"Maybe it's time I had a talk with Nora Garrity."

There was an idea. Did she know what her brother was really up to? Or was she a slightly less innocent victim of this like Ally? "So you're goin' back to bed?"

He grinned at me. "I knew you were bright, son." I grabbed him in a bear hug; I think I startled him. "What was that for?" he asked me.

"You be careful tomorrow while you're playin' bodyguard. I only got one brother." I didn't want to tell him I had an uneasy feeling about my meeting with Morgan.

I left then and closed the bedroom door behind me. I was yawning as I went back to my room. Maybe now I could get some sleep.

XXXXXXXX

I was lucky, and I was right. I fell asleep before I had much of a chance to think of anything. By the time I woke that morning Bret had already been up for a while and had breakfast. That was all right with me, I didn't want anything but coffee anyway. I was nervous about this meeting and food would only get in my way.

For the first time in a long while, I strapped on my shoulder holster and checked the derringer to make sure it was loaded. Then I deliberately left my gun belt on the bed. Morgan Everton didn't wear a gun; today I wasn't going to either. Bret raised an eyebrow when I walked out into the sitting room but didn't say anything. We headed downstairs and out the door, towards Everton's office. When we were about halfway there I turned to Bret. "We need a plan," I told him, and he nodded.

"We'll come up with one," he responded, and I felt the tension ease just a bit. I didn't know it at the time, but Sheriff Fordham was watching us progress down the sidewalk from the barbershop across the street. So was Eamon Garrity, from inside the bank. When we got to Morgan's office Bret assumed his bodyguard role and stood outside by the door, and I went inside. The only one in the office right now was the pretty young thing that had been here the other day. This time she knew who I was.

"Mr. Maverick, please come in and have a seat. Mr. Everton is just finishing up with someone; I'll tell him you're here. Would you like something to drink? Coffee, tea, something stronger perhaps?"

It crossed my mind that since Bret was play acting, maybe I should, too. So I slipped into my 'charming rogue' persona and smiled at Morgan's secretary. "No thank you, ma'am. But there is something I'd like. And that would be your name."

"My . . . whatever for, Mr. Maverick?"

"Why, so I know what to call you when I hire you away from Morgan. I can't very well steal you to work for me if I don't know what to call you, can I?" I gave her my best grin and tipped my hat to her. She blushed prettily and lowered her eyes.

"Juliette Stanley. But my friends call me Julie." I was flirting, and she was definitely flirting back.

"Then, Miss Stanley, I will wait for the day when I know you well enough to call you Julie."

She looked up then, still blushing, and rose from her seat. "I'll tell Mr. Everton you're here."

"Yes, ma'am," I answered, and sat down.

Juliette was back out quickly and looked at me rather shyly. "Mr. Everton will be free in just a moment."

"Thank you, Miss Stanley," and I smiled at her again. Just a few seconds later Everton's office door opened and a well-dressed gentleman of perhaps forty walked out, followed closely by Morgan Everton. Nate Turner completed the procession, and walked straight to the door. I stood and waited; Morgan came over to me with his hand outstretched and a smile on his face. There was no trace of Big Ed.

"Bart, good to see you. Archibald Casson, this is the friend I was telling you about, Bart Maverick. Bart, this is Archie Casson, who owns the building down the street." Casson and I shook hands and murmured pleasantries at each other. "Shall we go take a look at it, gentlemen?"

I joined the parade and followed them out the door. I was dressed as 'Bart Maverick, gentleman gambler' this morning, Bret as 'Bret Maverick, hired gun.' It almost made me laugh, but it caused Nate to do a double-take, especially when Bret insisted on being the last one tagging along in the group. Bless his heart, Bret knows how to make people extremely nervous when he wants to, and he definitely had Turner constantly glancing back at him. Keeping Morgan's man off-kilter could work to our advantage.

It was a quick walk to the building. Everton was accurate when he told us it was two doors down. Casson unlocked the door and the three of us (minus the heavy artillery) went inside. It was hard to tell just what the premises had been used for the last time it was occupied – there was a desk and some shelves in the front office, which was just a bit smaller than Morgan's, and the office that would be 'mine' was entirely empty. It was a good size and had a large window in it, and if I was going to get stuck inside a room every day, this would have done nicely.

"Looks reasonable, Mr. Casson. What do you want for the place?"

Casson named a price, I counter-offered, and we haggled back and forth for a few minutes. When I was satisfied I'd made a decent 'deal', I agreed to buy the building. We made arrangements to finalize the transaction at the end of the week and shook hands on it, Archie leaving and Morgan and me walking back to his office, followed closely by 'the boys.'

"Come in, join me for some brandy," Morgan offered, and I accepted. "Sounds like you've made up your mind to stay here in Tucson."

"Pretty much. Everything seems to be workin' out nicely," I told him as I took the glass he handed me. "Say, how's that problem of yours with the sheriff goin'?"

"Should be resolved by the end of this week," Morgan replied. "Has he hauled you in for a once-over yet?"

"Not so far, but I expect it anytime. What's the best way to handle him?" I asked curiously.

"Just ignore him for now. I've got somebody willing to take care of him for me. He won't be a problem after that."

"Alright, I can do that. Here's to new opportunities," and I raised my glass.

"And new friends," Morgan responded. And we toasted.


	23. Too Good for a Tumbleweed

Chapter 22 – Too Good for a Tumbleweed

Bret and I were on our way back to the hotel. "Well, I just bought a building," I announced.

"Bart Maverick, criminal entrepreneur?" Bret asked me.

"I guess."

"Anything new?"

I shook my head. "Whatever last night was about, the murder's still on. Morgan expects his sheriff problem to be resolved by the end of the week."

Suddenly there was another voice talking to us, coming from the tobacco shop. "Is that when you're supposed to kill me, Mr. Maverick?"

I didn't need to turn around. "It's not what it sounds like, Fordham."

Bret and I both felt the gun barrels at the same time. "Let's go to my office where we can discuss this, shall we?"

I looked over at Bret. "Some bodyguard you are."

My brother shrugged. "So fire me."

"Shut up," Fordham told us, so we did. Once we got inside the jail, the sheriff put away his guns. "Sit down, boys."

We sat. The sheriff's attitude had changed since coming indoors. He was much more congenial once inside the office. "I got a wire this morning from the marshal in Dodge City, Chris Hillis. I know what happened with Johnson and Hinkel. So you wanna tell me what's really goin' on here?"

Bret and I looked at each other and he grinned. It was the old 'not my tale to tell' grin, but I made him tell the story of our sojourn in Yuma and how we came to be on the stage with Ally O'Rourke. From there it took no time to explain Eamon, the unpayable debt, Nora, and our involvement with Morgan Everton. I even told him what had happened today. When I was done, Fordham looked at me like one of us was crazy, and it wasn't him. "Why did you two get involved? This isn't your fight. I understand Dodge City, but neither of you has a horse in this race."

Bret started out. "We have this problem, sheriff. When a beautiful woman needs help and asks us to do something . . . "

"We tend to do it," I finished. "Damsel in distress and all."

"Let me guess," Fordham declared. "Nora Garrity?"

Bret nodded his head, but I interjected, "Ally O'Rourke."

"And who's supposed to kill me? Eamon Garrity?"

"Exactly."

"And you intend to prevent it?"

"Exactly."

"How?"

"We don't know yet," I told him.

"Exactly," Bret added.

The sheriff hung his head and put his hand over his eyes. "You two should do a minstrel show. And what am I supposed to do?"

"Stay away from Morgan Everton and Eamon Garrity until we can figure something out?" Bret asked.

"Why don't I just arrest them?"

"On what charge?" I questioned him. "So far it's just talk. We're tryin' to put Everton away for blackmail and whatever else we can get him on. If you arrest him now he'll be out in a couple days."

"You've got a point," the sheriff agreed. "Explain to me again why I should trust the two of you?"

"Come on, sheriff, we're tryin' to help everybody and put the bad apple in jail for a nice long time," Bret reminded Fordham.

"And keep you alive," I pointed out to the man that had been questioning us.

"I've got an idea," Bret suddenly announced. And then he proceeded to explain. When he was done, John Fordham and I looked at each other.

"That might work," Sheriff Fordham declared.

"I think it will," I added.

So the three of us agreed. Now, to put the plan into action.

XXXXXXXX

Finally, we were back in our hotel room. "I need to go talk to Nora," Bret told me.

"Go right ahead. I skipped breakfast and missed lunch. I'm gonna see what Ally's doin'." I picked up my hat and turned to leave. Bret caught me by the arm.

"About Ally . . ."

"What?" I asked, turning back to him.

"If what we think is true, and this doesn't go just right . . . "

"I know, Bret. I could lose any chance with her forever. That thought crossed my mind."

"Could you live with it?"

I stopped and stared at my brother. "Could I? Sure. Do I want to? No."

"You gotta tell her now, Bart. If she's really who you want."

"I don't know that."

He still hadn't let go of my arm. "Yeah, ya do. You know exactly what you want. You been lookin' for it ever since you lost Caroline. Don't throw it away." Finally he turned loose of me, and I left the suite and headed for the Garrity house.

I found Nora sitting on the porch knitting, but Ally wasn't home. She'd gone to the ladies store at the other end of town to buy a dress to wear her first day of school next week. "Sit down with me for a while, Bart. We haven't really gotten to talk much."

Nora was right, we hadn't. So I sat on the porch with Ally's best friend, and she told me all about the Irish lass I'd fallen for. Ailish didn't have it easy growing up; her family was poor and her father couldn't make a decent living in New York, so they finally moved to Pennsylvania. She'd gone to work when she was sixteen, and been on her own after her parents died when she was eighteen. She'd had one real beau who was killed in an Indian raid at Fort Washington.

Nora was easy to talk to, and I did just that. I told her about Caroline and the marriage of inconvenience, and how I'd come to love her but lost her anyway. That led to a shortened version of what happened in Silver Creek, and on to some of the other things Bret and I had been through. She was a good listener, and I talked about things I'd deliberately forgotten about. Finally, when I had no more words, Nora had a question for me. "You've fallen in love with Ally, haven't you?"

I couldn't deny it any longer; I had to admit she was right. "Does she . . . I mean, do you know . . . is there any chance she has feelings for me?"

"Aye, I'm sure of it. She talks about you constantly. She's a tender-hearted lass, Bart Maverick, so don't you be hurtin' her none. I always hoped that she and Eamon would make a match, but it's not to be. She's too good for him. You just be sure she's not too good for you."

I was elated; I was wounded. Ally cared about me, but Nora was probably right. She was just like Caroline – too good for me. And there was still the little matter of my chosen profession, and my status as a 'tumbleweed.' No matter which way I looked at it, that left me with one big question – what was I gonna do now?


	24. Big Brother and the Holding Company

Chapter 23 – Big Brother and the Holding Company

Yes, I'd sent my brother off to see the girl he was in love with – along with the advice that he go after what he wanted. I'd seen his heart broken before, and it wasn't a pretty sight, but this was the first girl I think he'd actually fallen for since Caroline. I'm sure he loved all the others – Bart tends to do that, fall in love at the drop of a hat – but not quite this way. When he starts arguing with himself over life in one place versus life on the road, and the life in one place appears to be winning, I know it's serious.

Oh, I could sure see the appeal. Besides the fact that, in so many ways, Ally reminded me of Momma. That's right, our Momma. Not physically, of course – Momma was much taller, and darker – almost a day versus night comparison. But the humor, the gentleness, the genuine caring for other human beings, even those that were lacking in compassion for their fellow man, those were all traits that Belle Maverick and Ally O'Rourke shared. Even though I'd never met his first wife – Caroline – from everything I've heard she was like that, too.

The last thing I wanted in this world was to see my brother tethered in one place. I didn't have too much trouble with the idea of him married – I knew he'd never again marry somebody he wasn't crazy in love with – but I just didn't think he'd be happy stayin' in one spot the rest of his life. But I also knew he deserved a chance at bein' happy, and I've always known he'd make a great father. Look at the way he stepped up and took care of Matt Clennon in Dodge City. And my brother is not the kind of man to have bastard Maverick children runnin' all around the country, so there had to be a wife for there to be Maverick little 'uns. Was Ally the right girl to have those babies with? That wasn't my decision to make.

There was just one small problem with the whole wife and family scenario – Eamon Garrity. I know that Bart didn't wanna see it, but I could and did. While it sure looked like Ally had strong feelings for my brother, she had feelings for Eamon, too. Sometimes they bordered on anger, sometimes on sheer disgust, but more often than not there was plenty of affection there, too. Of course, I don't think Ally had the faintest idea what a low-life Eamon really was. Everything I'd seen and heard so far made me believe that Mr. Garrity was in this whole Morgan Everton mess a lot deeper than he appeared to be. I hoped my instincts were wrong, for both Ally and his sister's sake, but I didn't think they were. That's why I wanted to make sure Bart had his eyes open when it came to any potential outcome in the situation.

But, like I said before, I wanted Bart to have a chance, a real chance. If he got a commitment out of her now, then I wouldn't have to worry about any lingering feelings for her fellow Irishman. If he didn't - well, that kind of showed him just where he stood, didn't it? Better a broken heart now rather than after marriage.

So I handed him his hat (figuratively, not literally) and pushed him out the door. Knowing that it was gonna be a while before I could go talk to Nora Garrity, I went down the street to Irish Mike's, looking for something to occupy my time. I found a poker game and something else interesting – Morgan Everton sitting in a private office with the door open, having a serious discussion with Daniel Fitzgerald. Fitzgerald was Eamon Garrity's boss at the bank. Nate Turner was positioned outside the office and eventually closed the door. I was far enough away that I probably couldn't be seen from their positions inside. Nate was more interested in one of the saloon girls than keeping an eye open for potential trouble, and I was confident he hadn't spotted me. I played for maybe an hour or two and the two unlikely comrades were closed up in the office the whole time. Finally I decided that it was time to go talk to Nora, and I excused myself and left.

She was sitting on the porch knitting, and she smiled when I walked up. "Two Mavericks in one day," she laughed, and I realized Brother Bart had been there before me. "Have a seat, I'm sure you're not looking for Ally."

"No, ma'am, I'm lookin' for you. Got some time you can spare me?"

"Oh dear. Is it going to be that serious?"

I nodded. "I think so. It's about your brother."

The smile left her face. "What has he done now?"

"I don't know for sure that he's done anything. But there's some things I need to ask you about him."

She put down her knitting and turned her full attention to me. "About Kansas City?"

I must have looked slightly startled, because she hurried to explain. "Jeanette came to see me after you two talked. She thought I should know."

"Fine with me. What kind of trouble did Eamon get into?"

Nora sighed and looked melancholy. It was the first time she seemed sorrowful, and I felt just a pang of guilt for causing her more heartache. "He shot a man that accused him of cheating."

"Was he? Cheating, I mean?"

"Yes." She hadn't hesitated, just answered me straight out, like it was a fact of life rather than a painful episode.

"That wasn't the first time he got in trouble, was it?" It was time that Bart and I knew the truth about the man we'd gotten in deep trying to extricate from his troubles. The man that Ally O'Rourke didn't know the facts about.

"No."

"And you've protected him all these years, haven't you, Nora?"

There was an expression in her eyes that I would call haunted when she glanced at me. "I had to. He's all I have left."

"Are you still protectin' him now?" What else was there that she hadn't told us about Eamon? Anything that we needed to know?

She seemed sincere when she answered me, and I really hoped that it was the truth. "No, I'm not. I don't know what he's gotten into this time. When we came to Tucson I told him this was the last stop; I'm not running anymore. If he messes things up here, he's on his own. I had no intention of bailing him out of this mess, nor did I know that Ally would drag two innocent victims into the effort." She reached over and covered my hands with one of hers. "I'm sorry that she did, but I'm glad it was you."

"So you remember – "

"Seeing you on the train platform in Dodge City? Yes. And I remember thinking I was going the wrong way on the train. But I had to leave. I'd already sent Eamon on to Kansas City, and it would've pained me to believe you were dead all that time. Taylor Clennon was a good man, a friend of mine, too, and I couldn't abide what happened to him. So I ran. It was only a matter of time before we had to leave, anyway, because of something Eamon had done. I didn't realize I was taking the trouble with me, I thought I was leaving it behind."

She took a breath, and I slipped in another question. "Do you know anything about Daniel Fitzgerald?"

"The man Eamon works for at the bank? No, I've only met him once. He seemed like a nice enough man. Is there something I should know?"

I shook my head. "Nope, just wondered. I saw him in town and got curious." I knew I probably shouldn't ask this, but I was gonna push my luck while things seemed to be goin' my way. "Uh, any chance I could take you to dinner tonight? Just the two of us, I mean. I think you deserve a night out on your own."

She'd started knitting again while we talked but when I asked her to dinner she put it down in her lap and I watched as a smile spread slowly across her face. "I'd like that, Mr. Maverick. I surely would."

"Good," I told her. "Go put on the prettiest dress you've got. We'll go get the biggest steak we can find."

"And then come back here for coffee?" she asked, with a twinkle in her eye.

"Yes, ma'am. I think that's a great idea."

I had no idea what lay ahead of us.


	25. Marry Me, Girl

Chapter 24 – Marry Me, Girl

When I left Nora Garrity's house I went to the livery and got a buggy. Then I went to the ladies dress shop that Nora pointed me to and walked in just in time to find Ailish completing her purchase. I removed my hat and made a great show of bowing. "Miss O'Rourke, I've come to take you to supper, and then home. Would you be so kind as to accompany me?"

She giggled and curtsied. "Aye, Mr. Maverick, I'd be delighted to do so. Did ya have somethin' particular in mind?"

"Yes, ma'am. I've arranged for a private dining room at the Tucson Palace Hotel. They're makin' a special supper for the two of us, according to my specific instructions. They should have everything ready and set up in," here I pulled out my watch and checked the time, "another twenty minutes or so. Might I interest you in a buggy ride before supper?"

"I think that would be lovely, Mr. Maverick. Could we stop at my home and allow me a few minutes to change clothes before we dine?"

"We can certainly accommodate the lady, Miss O'Rourke. Allow me." I took the package from her hand and offered her my arm. She accepted and I walked her outside to the buggy, where I helped her in, then climbed aboard myself. Down the street we went, then around the corner and on to the little house. I noticed that Nora was no longer sitting on the porch, and I helped Ally down and up to the front door. "I'll wait for you out here, ma'am," I told her as she walked into the house.

I wondered if Ally was one of the ladies that takes forever to get dressed, but in less than ten minutes she was back on the doorstep, and she took my breath away. A beautiful blue dress, with her hair swept up on her head, and those green emeralds that resided on her face and disguised themselves as eyes. I was speechless, and the only thing I could do was offer my arm for the third time that night. Back to the buggy we went, and I took us slowly around town and back down Main Street before coming to a stop in front of the Palace Hotel. Inside and up the stairs to Suite 316, and when I opened the door everything was perfect.

The settees in the middle of the room had been pushed back and a small, round dining table had taken their place, with two chairs and candles on the table, and a big bouquet of flowers in the center. I didn't know where they'd gotten the flowers, and I didn't care. There was a bottle of wine with two glasses, and a note on my plate that read (when I got to it), _'Dinner will be served in ten minutes.'_

"You arranged all this?" Ally asked quietly.

"Don't you like it?" I questioned, afraid that I'd overstepped my bounds.

"Oh my goodness, it's beautiful!" she exclaimed, and I could wait no longer. I swept her into my arms and kissed her, leaving absolutely no doubt that I was crazy about the girl. Then I stepped back and opened the wine, pouring a glass for each of us.

"A toast!" I announced, and Ally looked up expectantly. "To the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on. And how lucky I was to have been on the stage to Tucson the day we met."

She laughed, we toasted, and there was a knock on the door. Supper, I assumed, and for once I was right. All the things I wanted to say to her would have to wait. "Come back in thirty minutes for the dishes," I instructed the young man who'd brought our suppers, and I slipped him a bill to make sure he returned.

After we'd eaten and the dishes were removed, I moved everything of importance to the table in front of the settee. Then I poured more wine for both of us and sat with Ally's head on my shoulder on the sofa. We were full and quiet, and Ally seemed content. I certainly was, and finally I said, "Ailish, there's something I've been meaning to tell you."

"It's not going to be one of those things that I don't want to hear, is it?" she asked.

"I hope not," I replied. "I think you know that I've come to care for you, don't you?"

"Aye, I care for you, too."

I cleared my throat and screwed up my courage. "I care for you a lot."

"Aye, I know."

Almost a minute of silence passed before I finally said, "Ally, I love you."

She removed her head from my shoulder and sat up straight. "You . . . you love me? Did I hear you right?"

"Aye," I answered, waiting, hoping for something more from her.

"You love me?"

I pulled away from her and cradled her chin in my hand, fixated on those mesmerizing emerald eyes. "Aye, lass, I love you. Ailish O'Rourke, I want to marry you."

She stared at me like she'd never seen me before. "You . . . want . . . to . . . marry . . . me."

"I do."

"But what about . . . " she started, and I kissed her before she could finish.

"I want to marry you, and buy a house, and raise a family. With you. Just you. Will you marry me?"

"I . . .will," she proclaimed, and threw her arms around my neck. We kissed, and kissed, and kissed until neither of us could breathe, and I held her in my arms and buried my face in her hair, that beautiful long strawberry blonde hair that had come tumbling down while we kissed, and cried. For just a moment I was so happy . . . so happy.

Why couldn't it last?

There was a knock on the door and I thought maybe it was Bret, not wanting to barge in just in case he might interrupt something, and I jumped up to answer it. I was greeted by the barrel of a Colt Peacemaker. On the other end of the gun was Eamon Garrity.


	26. Lost Forever

Chapter 25 – Lost Forever

I backed up and Eamon came into the suite. I could smell liquor on his breath, but he wasn't drunk. He'd had just enough to give him courage. "Put the gun down, Eamon," was the first thing I said.

"Nope, Mr. I've-Got-a-Plan. The only plan you've got is to steal Ally right out from under my nose, then get me killed while you're tryin' to 'protect' me."

"That's not true, Eamon. We're really tryin' to help you."

He closed the door behind him, but where the gun was pointed never wavered. "Sure. Tryin' to protect me. How does havin' Ally up here in your room protect me? What'd you have planned for her, huh? Gonna worm your way into her heart, then her bed, then when I was gone you'd have her? Is that your plan?"

"Eamon, no!" Ally cried out. "Put the gun down. I'm going to marry Bart."

"Gonna marry . . . no! You can't! You're my girl, Ally, you always have been. I don't have fancy clothes or a fancy brother, but you're mine. Not Bart High-and-Mighty Mavericks! Mine!"

So Bret was right all along. Eamon Garrity thought that Ally O'Rourke was his girl, and I had no right to be in love with her.

Ally, bless her heart, stood her ground. "I'm not your girl, Eamon. I never have been. Bart's asked me to marry him, and I've accepted." What she didn't realize was that she was making things worse, not better.

"Nooooooooo!" he wailed. "You can't marry a dead man, and I'm gonna kill him!" There was something goin' on here besides a fight over Ailish, and I needed to find out what it was – if I had any hope of coming out of this alive.

"Eamon, put the gun down and let's talk about this. If you kill me you still won't have Ally, and you'll have to deal with Morgan by yourself." I didn't know if he'd even listen to me at this point, but I was sure gonna try to talk my way out of this, whatever it had become.

"Ha! That's where you're wrong. Morgan knows all about the Mavericks plan to bring him to his knees, and he gave me a choice – kill the sheriff or kill you and your brother. I pick – you!"

"Why don't you leave my brother out of this? He hasn't done anything but try to help you. You don't have to kill Bret, too." Maybe I could convince him that one Maverick murder was enough?

"Because he knows. He knows. He knows everything you know. If I kill both of you, then I'll be a hero. I'll tell the sheriff it was all a cover, for the two of you to take over the town and run it. And he won't be able to lay his dirty Maverick paws on my sister again. Nope, gotta be both of you."

Ally started to walk towards him, but I pulled her back. The liquored-up man standing in front of her was not the sweet, gentle Irish boy she'd known for most of her life. "No, Ally, stay out of it."

"Where's your gun belt?" Eamon barked.

"In my room," I answered back.

"Ally, go get his gun belt. And don't try anything cute, because if you do, I'll shoot him right where he stands."

I shifted my gaze back to Ally and nodded. "Do as he says, lass. And be careful. Don't give him any reason to shoot."

She slowly made her way into my room and came back out carrying the requested object. She walked towards Eamon and dropped it at his feet, quickly backing away as if it was a snake about to bite her. He squatted down and removed the gun from its holster, then straightened up and held out the empty belt. "Put this on," he ordered, and I did as I was told.

"What did you tell Morgan?" I asked him while tying down the holster.

"The truth," he answered surprisingly. "That you and your brother were lyin' to him, that you'd sworn to help me out of my debt to him, and you all were workin' on a plan to get him arrested and locked up for a long time. He wasn't happy, to say the least. He really liked you, Maverick. Thought you were cut from the same cloth as him. So he gave me a choice – and told me my debt was paid either way."

"The other night in the alley?"

"You saw that, huh? Nate thought you might have, but he wasn't sure. We argued about who got to kill you and your brother. Finally, I won."

"What happened to Big Ed?"

"Big Ed? Nothin', why?"

"Have you seen him since that night?"

"Uh, no. Why?"

Just as I thought. "Because Ed caught me, but I convinced him he hadn't. If he said somethin' to Morgan or Nate, Big Ed is no longer in the picture."

Eamon shrugged. "Not my problem. All I have to do is get rid of you and your brother. Ally, you stay here. I don't want you involved in this."

She tried one more time. "You can't do this. You know it's wrong. Do you think I could ever live with you if you kill Bart and Bret? I'll hate you until the day I die, Eamon Garrity."

"No, you won't. Deep down you love me. You know you do. In time, you'll understand." He waved his gun at me. "Let's go, Maverick."

Ally grabbed my arm and I shrugged her off. "Stay here, Ailish. Stay safe. Please. I couldn't stand it if you were hurt."

With big tears running down her cheeks, she nodded. "I love you, Bart."

It was the first time she'd said it, and it made me smile. I couldn't help it. The look on Eamon's face? Pure hatred. He backed up and opened the door to our suite, then motioned me out with the gun. I went, willing to bide my time until I could gain an advantage. He stayed right behind me, with the barrel in my back, all the way down the stairs. The lobby of the hotel was empty, but I could hear rain and thunder outside. The monsoon was again in full swing.

I looked out the front door before I pulled it open. Through the pouring rain and the occasional flash of lightning I could see figures across the street, standing under the dry overhang of the barber shop roof. The one on the left was Nate Turner, and he had a gun in one hand and Nora in the other. In front and to the right was my brother, and I could see no gun in his holster, either. What was Eamon's intention? To shoot us down in the street like dogs? And where was everyone? Even with the torrential rain there should be someone out – but there was no one in sight. Only the three people I saw, soon to be joined by two more – me and Garrity.

The gun jammed into my back and I opened the door and walked out under the overhang on our side of the street. Bret saw me and there was an imperceptible nod. Nora stood stock still, a look of sheer terror frozen on her face. Eamon's gun shoved me forward, out into the mud and the street, and within seconds I was soaked through. I couldn't see much with the hammering down of the water, but I heard Ally come running down the stairs and follow Eamon out onto the sidewalk and beg him to stop this insanity. He was beyond reasoning, and shoved her carelessly out into the street with me.

I grabbed her and pushed her through the downpour to the other side of the street, over with Nora and Bret, and she began screaming and crying. Bret got his hands on her and kept her from running back out into the storm. "No, Eamon, no!" she yelled, but the Irishman ignored her. That's when he did something unexpected – he tossed me my Colt.

"Holster it!" he yelled, and against my better judgment I did. I was numb by the time I did that – I didn't have a snowball's chance in hell of winning a gunfight. Bret always jokes about him being the second slowest gun in the west – but guess who he can outdraw? Once I got it out I was a pretty good shot, but getting it out was the problem. To make matters worse, Garrity had a hat on to keep the rain out of his eyes – I was bareheaded.

He kept his gun pointed at me until he got to the middle of the street, then quickly slipped it inside his holster. "Kill me, Maverick, and your brother lives," he shouted at me, and before I had time to think, he drew and fired.

I felt the bullet hit my shoulder, and the impact threw me to the ground as I pulled my gun and shot in his general direction. By the grace of God and sheer luck I hit him, and the last thing I saw before I crashed to the ground was the look of complete surprise on his face as the bullet ripped through his chest.

I couldn't move. I just lay there in the street, in the rain and the mud, wounded by the man that I'd just killed, and bled. I could still hear Ally screaming, and Bret trying to hold onto her and calm her down. When he finally let go of her she ran straight to Eamon, and only when she was certain he was dead did she come to me.

"You're hurt!" she cried, as if she hadn't seen his bullet hit me and knock me down. In that moment I knew I'd lost her – I'd lost her to a dead man.


	27. The Shape of a Broken Heart

Chapter 26 – The Shape of a Broken Heart

I'd finally gotten to take Nora Garrity to dinner, all by ourselves, and we were having a fine time when Nate Turner showed up; armed to the teeth, of course, and interrupted us. No dessert tonight, I'm afraid.

"Get up, Maverick. You too, Missy. Give me the gun, card sharp. Now, both of you, outside. Your brother's got a debt to pay, Miss Garrity, and I'm afraid it involves both of the Mavericks." He stuck the gun in my ribs and smirked. "Maybe this time you'll stay dead."

I didn't like the sound of that but I didn't see that I had much choice. Turner had his big, meaty hand wrapped tight around Nora's wrist, and with just a slight twist he could break her entire arm. So we walked out of the steakhouse, with her in his grasp and my backside in his gun. The monsoon had made a return appearance and it was pouring rain outside, along with loads of thunder and lightning. He yelled, "Stop!" when we got out onto the porch.

The street was nothing more than a muddy river, and there was no one out in it. I was hard pressed to figure out just what was goin' on, until I looked at the hotel, across the street. Through the glass in the hotel door I could see my brother, and right behind him stood Eamon. I heard Nora gasp; she saw them, too. Bart was bareheaded, which gave me a clue that he hadn't left our suite of his own free will. He opened the door and stepped outside, once again with Garrity right behind him. I nodded just a bit and I saw a flicker on Bart's face of – what? Resignation, more than anything. And I could guess what was coming. I just didn't know why.

Eamon shoved Bart in the back and out into the street. He was soaked through in mere seconds, and I could see that while he had his gun belt on, his holster was empty. That's when Ally came flying down the stairs of the hotel, yelling something like, "Stop this! Before you do something you'll always regret!" Eamon paid no attention to her and thrust her out into the street next to Bart, who hurriedly pushed her towards me and the overhang. I got my hands on her and kept her from running back into the downpour. She was yelling "No, Eamon, no!" as Garrity, his gun still pointed at my brother, walked out into the rain and mud himself. He was forcing Bart into a gunfight.

Anger and helplessness ran through my veins. Why was this happening? We'd done nothing but try and extricate Eamon from his own mess, and he paid us back by trying to kill my brother. I started to make a move and saw Nate jam the gun barrel into Nora's side. I doubt if she felt it; she looked absolutely terror-stricken. I held my breath and kept my hold on Ally, who was struggling to free herself from my grip.

Before I had a chance to breathe, Garrity did something I didn't expect – he tossed Bart's gun to him and yelled "Holster it." Bart never flinched, not once, even knowing there was no chance he could outdraw the Irishman. Like I said, my brother rushes in where Angels fear to tread. Eamon finally holstered his gun just as he yelled out, "Kill me, Maverick, and your brother lives." So that was the game he was playing. Bart either died trying or killed Eamon and saved both our lives.

Garrity pulled his gun and fired, and I saw Bart take the bullet in the shoulder as he was pulling his own weapon out. He's my brother, and he makes me damn proud to have had a hand in raising him, but a fast draw he'll never be. I saw the impact the bullet made; it dropped him to the ground. Somehow as he went down he got his own gun out of the holster and shot, and the accuracy of his shot was startling. Nora gasped again and I let go of Ally to whirl on Turner and do my best to knock his teeth out. I guess I succeeded, because he went down and turned loose of Nora and the weapon as he did so. I grabbed the gun and ran for my brother. Ally had gone to Eamon first and then to Bart; I could see the pain in his eyes by the time I got to him.

She'd said something to him, but he turned his head to me. "Get me outta here, Pappy," he pleaded when I reached him, and I did. I got him to his feet and half carried, half dragged him to the doctor's office, with Ally trailing behind us. "Dead?" he asked.

I forced myself to swallow and told him, "Yeah," just as I hauled him inside. Good thing Doc Sweeney hadn't left for the day. I finally picked him up and carried him into the exam room, and as soon as I had him laid out on Doc's table I turned back to Ally. Gripping her by the shoulders, I backed her up into Doc's waiting room. "Go take care of Nora," I told her, and she started to protest.

"But I . . . no, I have to . . . please, I have to be with him. I'm going to marry him."

I looked her right in the eyes, those emerald green eyes that my brother had been so in love with. "No, you're not," I told her. "You made your choice, out there in the rain. Nora needs you now." I let go of her and went back into the exam room. The last I saw of her she was just standing there, staring at me.

I got back into the exam room just as my brother let out a howl of pain. I knew that sound well – that would be the bullet coming out. I was there by his side in just a second, and I grinned that lopsided grin at him. "Alright, son, be a good Maverick and pass out so Doc can stitch you up." He looked up at me and tried to grin back.

"Can't hurt any worse," he muttered through gritted teeth, and in defiance he stayed conscious the whole time Doc sewed up the wound.

"Is that all you boys ever do, is get shot?" the doctor asked. He'd treated the tail end of our injuries when we'd first gotten to Tucson.

"Nope, Doc, sometimes we get our hearts broke, too," I replied, and held tight onto my brother's hand. He was gonna need me for a while.


	28. Home

Chapter 27 – Home

I remember more than I'd like to. Nothing that the bullet or Doc did to me could hurt any worse than the realization that Ally loved Eamon more than me. I don't know why she'd agreed to be my wife; maybe she figured Garrity was never going to get himself straightened out and I was her best chance at a normal life. That wasn't gonna happen now – not for any of us.

I stayed at Doc Sweeney's for two days, then Bret helped me back to our suite at the hotel. I don't know if Ally came to see me or not. I'd told Bret I didn't want to see her, and I didn't. Once he got me back to our rooms, we talked about it some. "I asked her to marry me, Bret, and she said yes. Why did she do that? It'd hurt less if she'd said no."

"I don't know, Bart. I know she loved you. Still does, as far as I know. I guess she just loved him more and never realized it until it was too late. She still intended to marry you, ya know."

I was sitting up in bed, my left arm in a sling. "Wouldn't that have been great? I love you, honey, but not as much as the man you killed." There was a knock on the door, and I was happy for the distraction. "Unless, you know . . . " I told Bret.

"Got it, son." I heard him walk out to the front door and heard low, murmured voices for a moment. Then there were footsteps, and Sheriff Fordham stuck his head in the door. "Feel like answerin' some questions?" he asked, and I shook my head.

"Sure, if you'll answer some a mine," I told him. "Come on in an sit down a spell."

"Thanks, don't mind if I do. The last couple days been real busy."

"Really?" I asked him. "What have I missed?"

Bret pulled up a chair on the other side of my bed, a smirk on his face. "You complainin', sheriff?"

"Nope, not at all. Always happy to get scum off the street, and that bunch sure qualified. You boys did right well by the people of Tucson. Ah, we found Big Ed's body. Out by the old mill; looks like Nate shot him. You just never know with partners, do you? You two are lucky you're brothers."

I thought about the Gauthier's down in Magdalena, Mexico. "Even that doesn't work sometimes. You'd be surprised."

"So what now?" Bret asked.

"Well, Nate's turned state's evidence against Morgan, keep him from hangin', probably. Everton's goin' away for a long, long time. There was a reward for Nate and Ed, by the way, from Kansas. Almost three thousand dollars, between the two of 'em. It's yours."

"Give it to Nora Garrity," I told him. Bret nodded.

"What about Daniel Fitzgerald?" My brother asked.

"The bank president? You saved him a whole lotta trouble and heartache. He owed Everton over five thousand. He was about to get taken for a bundle."

"What did you need to ask me?" I was curious just what it was that Fordham wanted to know.

"You boys stayin' in Tucson for a while? Seems the mayor's race is short one candidate, and people keep tossin' your name around."

"Me?" I asked him. "For mayor? Thanks, I think, but no thanks. I'm just a humble gambler – I'd like to stay that way. And no, we're not stayin' in town."

"How soon you headed out?"

"Next couple of days, probably," Bret told him. "Just got a couple things to clear up."

"Takin' the coach outta here?"

I shook my head. "I'm done with stage coaches for a while, sheriff. I think I'd rather rough it on horseback."

'Well, come by and say goodbye before ya leave, would ya? Thanks for all your help." He shook hands with both of us and Bret walked him back to the door. When Bret returned he looked kinda glum.

"What's the matter, Brother Bret? You look unhappy."

He shook his head. "Pappy'd have a fit if he knew how many lawmen we were gettin' to be friends with."

"I won't tell him if you won't. We're goin' home for a while, huh? That alright with you?"

"Yep, long as we can head on out to Abilene when you're back to bein' your usual, cantankerous self."

"Works for me." Just as I was about to say something else, there was another knock on the door. Bret went to answer it again, and this time when he came back he did not look happy at all.

"Ally's here. She wants to see you. I told her you didn't wanna see her, but she's insistent."

"I'd rather not."

The next sound I heard was a familiar voice. "Don't you think you should?" She'd quietly followed Bret back through the suite, arriving at my door before he knew she was there.

"I've nothin' to say, Ally."

"I have things to say, Bart."

I looked at Bret and sort of shrugged. "I'll call ya if I need ya."

He nodded and closed the door. Ally moved further into the room and sat down. She was just as beautiful as the first time I'd seen her.

She cleared her throat. "How are you?"

"Fine."

"How are you really?"

"I've got another hole in my shoulder and I've just been through the shortest engagement in history. How long did it last, thirty minutes? How do you think I am?" I have to admit, my tone could have been nicer.

She cleared her throat again. "I love you, Bart."

What I wanted to say was "Less than you love a dead man," but I didn't. Instead I looked down at my hands. "I know."

"Do you? Do you really know? I still love you, and I've lost you."

"No, Ally, you didn't lose me. You threw me away." I couldn't help it. I hurt. Inside and outside. I'd loved this girl enough to be willing to change my whole life for her, only to find out that I was merely number two in her affections. I had no sympathy in my heart for her. Love, yes. That was still there. Sympathy, no.

"I didn't mean to do that."

I just sat there. I didn't know what to say to her. Maybe that's why I didn't want to see her. "I know you didn't, Ally. But that's just what you did. What if it hadn't happened like that? What if Eamon hadn't shown up at our door? Would you have married me?"

"Yes."

"Knowing that you loved him?"

"But I didn't love him the same way, Bart." She was begging, pleading with me to understand. But I couldn't. Could I? "I'd known Eamon practically my whole life. He was like a brother to me."

"Was he? Is that why you went to him first?" There it was, I think. The reason I was so hurt by Ally's attention to Eamon. It wasn't the act itself, it was the fact that Eamon came first. It dawned on me that he might always come first, and I couldn't live like that. I wouldn't live like that. I think it's the way Samantha Crawford must have felt when she left me in St. Joseph and went home to Dry Springs. "Ally, this isn't gonna get us anywhere. We can't get married. I love you, and you say you love me. But it's not enough. It's just not enough."

I think that's when she finally gave up. She stood and bent over to kiss me on the cheek, then murmured "Goodbye, Bart Maverick." And a few seconds later she was gone.

Bret waited a while before he came back into my room. When he did, he sat down in the chair she'd vacated and looked at me. "You alright?"

I shook my head no. "Yes," is what came out of my mouth, followed quickly by "I don't know."

We sat there for a few minutes in silence, and then he asked me, "Do you want me to go bring her back?"

"No."

A few more minutes passed, and when I looked up this time he was watching me carefully. "I love her, Bret, but I can't live like that. I'd always know that I was second choice. I . . . I can't be second choice." And whether I wanted them to or not, hot tears gathered in my eyes and threatened to spill over. "Can we get out of here?" I finally asked him.

He brightened up just a bit. "Sure. Where do you wanna go?"

"I wanna go home, Bret. I wanna go home to Little Bend. I wanna go today, not tomorrow or the next day. I wanna pack and go right now, before I change my mind and never leave Tucson."

"Can you ride like that, with your arm in a sling?"

"I don't know if I can, I just know I'm willin' to try. Can we go now, Pappy?"

"That we can do, son. That we can do."

The End


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